


Cold and Damp

by mertlekang



Series: Cold and Damp [1]
Category: Super Junior
Genre: Alternate Universe - Zombies, M/M, Minor Character Death, Unhealthy Relationships, aka everyone dies and everyone is super duper sad im sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-24
Updated: 2013-07-09
Packaged: 2017-12-16 02:09:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 11
Words: 41,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/856554
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mertlekang/pseuds/mertlekang
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Seoul becomes infested with the living dead and the government abandons them; it's only natural that they realise hidden feelings in the midst of disaster.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Introduction

**Author's Note:**

> You may have seen this story up on livejournal/AFF - and if you did, you probably hate me because I suddenly abandoned it, but I'm back!

It had been all over the news, people shouting about their loved ones simply crawling out of their coffins.

The undead uprising.

An outbreak of Solanum; a virus that, upon reaching the brain, destroys and replicates the once living cells in the frontal lobe, while killing the rest of the brain, turning a human into a zombie within twenty-four hours of infection. Memories, thoughts and emotions are void and lost, the only thing remaining is hunger. The hunger for human flesh.

A cut, a scratch, a bite. That's all it takes. Infected saliva in an open wound, a scrap of infected blood under a fingernail, which you then use to scratch your skin, breaking the top layer - you'll be dead within hours. The point of infection rapidly swells, turns purple, goes numb. You either die and re-animate, or you turn instantly - reaching out for the nearest source of fresh meat.

It started in larger continents, places like America and China. Smaller villages and isolated countries hadn't been affected by the plague at all - at least not until people started flocking there, thinking they'd be safer, unknowingly spreading the plague with every sick family member or companion they brought along.

China was the first to close its borders, becoming a quarantine zone. None in, none out. Rumours of genocide, mass murder and the building of an undead army were ripe and many, no-one knew what was true and what wasn't. Russia was next, followed by Germany and North America.

Conspiracy theories were plastered all over the web and the news, all pointing to North Korea. Satellite images showed the country to be empty - not a soul to be seen. 'Underground bunkers' and 'hundreds of massive submarines' were the best answers people could give - though some simply thought that maybe they'd taken the quickest, most effective form of defence: massacre.

The remaining parts of America not yet closed off to the outside world were raving about their miracle cure - created only a week after the outbreak. People migrated, swarmed to this God-sent saviour - hardly any finished their journey, and if they did, it was to an ill end. The cure was false - though some would call it a way out. Instant death. Poison.

England was destroyed, completely savaged due to it's lack of army personnel who were fighting a pointless war in the East, leaving the entire country defenceless. Scotland fell next, bringing with it the rest of the United Kingdom and Ireland.

Japan was saved by it's mountainous landscape - for a while. Kyushu and Hokkaido were the first of its islands to be lost, their inhabitants fleeing to the mainland and spreading the infection. Its people were skilled, thousands trained in ancient techniques, and they learnt fast. Their war is still ongoing.

South Korea - silent and insignificant in the eyes of the world - was the last to be torn apart. Nearly two weeks after the world had been turned to rubble and ash, the infection finally seeped into South Korean soil. By then, people were well aware of what was coming - but that didn't mean they didn't panic. If anything, they panicked more. Seeing every other country succumb to the terror of the undead stole all hope they had of surviving, and many simply gave up. Many just sat in their homes, waiting for their defences to break down, for the teeth to sink into their flesh. Some fought, and lost. Some hid, some fled, some survived.

But there was nowhere to flee, because soon enough, nowhere was safe.


	2. Chapter 2

As he hammered the last nail into the fire exit, he realised just how silent it had grown. It seemed to swallow him, smothering him in its absurd density. He dropped his hammer into his toolbox, jumped down off the ladder and pulled it along behind him, screeching noisily along the buffered laminate. The noise made his hairs stand on end, but any sound was better than that silence. His toolbox clattered and shook, sitting precariously on one of the steps, and when he brought the ladder to an abrupt stop a screwdriver clattered to the floor, the sudden sound making his heart skip a beat. He reached down, and on his knees he turned it in his hands, sighed. He sat, leaned against the ladder with his head back against the cool metal. This was some deep shit he’d found himself in, a tidal wave of shit that was sweeping him away, dragging him deeper into its depths with every passing moment.

There’d been whispers, ridiculous stories of cannibalism and terrifying acts of violence, laughable headlines on the news and splashed across the front pages of newspapers. Nobody could believe what was happening, and how could they? This was a thing of fiction, of movies and novels and cheap unrated comic books. Even when it happened in front of their eyes nobody could believe it. Nobody wanted to.  
It started as a flu, countless people around the world becoming sick with an unknown virus, some dying, some becoming aggressive, some becoming outright unapproachable. Scratching, biting, loss of comprehension. It swept the world, and before you could blink people were talking about the dead coming back to life. But nobody expected it to come to their doorstep, to Korea. At college only the fanatics gave a flying crap about the whole zombie fuss, everybody else got on with their studies, their drinking, and their partying.

But Hankyung couldn’t relax. It gnawed at his mind day by day and somehow he knew this wasn’t a hoax. When China was quarantined, he realised just how right he’d been. He couldn’t contact his mother no matter how many times he tried. The North was deserted, Japan was a scorched wasteland. Eventually, Korea caught on. People started boarding up their windows, hitting the shops and petrol stations in blind panic. Hankyung was prepared, though, unlike the blind mass of youths surrounding him day in day out, he knew the danger hurtling towards him and he was ready.

He didn’t have friends at college, at most he had a few acquaintances, and even they were hard to name. He was shy, awkward, a stunted Chinese accent making him hard to understand, and people just got fed up of trying to speak to him. Naturally he’d improved, but by then he had nobody to talk to anyway so he ended up becoming even more of a recluse, a shadow. He took having no friends as a positive, though. He had more time to work, and work he did. He had a part time job in a big shopping plaza, and of course they paid him as low a salary as they could get away with. But he put up with it, he had to. He’d left China to study in Korea, taking on a ridiculous amount of overtime to pay his rent and feed himself, and in the end his desperation for money had put him in the best possible position.

When the dead started washing up on the shores, and of course when they proceeded to get up and chase people, the staff around him soon stopped coming to work. Soon he was the only one left, more people calling in sick every day. This place was a fortress, and when smoke started to rise on the horizon and every tv channel showed scenes of devastation he soon realised how damn lucky he was to be so alone. Days had passed in silence as he shut himself in, barred every door, and boarded up every window. His hands were constantly sore from hammering, his feet aching from walking every floor just to make sure he was really alone. Not a soul tried to get in; in fact people seemed to avoid the huge shopping plaza, intimidated by its size and dangerous potential. All the better, he supposed.

He worked here as a security guard, and after three years he knew each corner and crevice of the four storey building. Polished pale laminate floors and marble décor as far as the eye could see, a place once heaving with people now left empty and silent, the only sound being the echo of his footsteps as he plodded tiredly to the third floor. The stairwell was pitch black, the steps impossible to see beneath his feet. He’d turned the power off on the way up – there was no good in advertising his whereabouts. Every floor had huge floor-length windows the whole way around, and keeping the lights on would attract attention Hankyung didn’t want. He shoved the doors open to the third floor as he reached the top of the stairwell, his shoes squeaking shrilly on the laminate as he made his way to the bedroom showrooms, a map of the place burned into his mind. There was light here, though, a soft pale moonlight bouncing off the polished floors. He stopped at the foot of one of the show beds, sinking down into the soft mattress and kicking off his shoes, wiggling his stiff, sore toes. He didn’t get undressed, he just collapsed there in his work clothes, and he wondered if he was really all that was left. He turned onto his side, towards the windows, and the view gave him chills, a loneliness coming over him in the sheer desolation he saw outside. The night was aflame, fires as far as his eyes could see; smoke billowing across the burnt grey horizon. Lights twinkled, almost deceiving him into thinking there were people down there, as if there was someone calling to him, begging him to notice there was still hope, that someone was waiting for him.

He turned away and slept.

\--

His shoes were wasted, every crack and dip in the pavement felt through the thin, worn soles. If he’d known he’d be walking this much he wouldn’t have worn his designer leather steel-toed boots. He knew it was the end of the world and everything, but he just couldn’t bring himself to leave them behind. He pulled his thick black coat tighter around himself, nuzzling into the fur at his neck as his breath vaporised in the crisp February air. Even though it was icy cold his hair was stuck to his face in sweaty, greasy clumps and he knew his expensive silk shirt had sweat patches that probably wouldn’t wash out. He walked briskly, silently through the streets of Seoul, the sky pale and full of clouds, the sun still rising behind them. His skinny frame was hunched as he walked, the weight of his backpack too much for his weak shoulders to bear. Most people would’ve packed weapons, warm clothes, water or food when they heard it was the end of the world as they knew it. He’d brought clothes and shoes, because even in a zombie apocalypse you need to look stylish.

He’d been walking for days, hiding anywhere he could; shops, flats, and cars – just for one or two hours of uneasy sleep. And that was if he was lucky. Those things were everywhere; they could hear you breathing, your heart thumping in your chest. Whenever he thought he’d found somewhere safe and secure he’d hear the shuffling, the groaning, and he’d be on his feet again, wishing he’d packed some more appropriate footwear. He’d escaped his college campus with haste, not thinking a single thing through. He’d left everything behind, even his best friend, and now he regretted it deeply. His friend was useless, a skinny thing scared of his own shadow, but it was better than nothing. It was better than being alone. He’d have someone to watch his back while he slept - someone to rely on. But instead all he had was himself, and perfect as he was he still wasn’t quite as useful as a team.

He looked awful, and he knew that for a fact. For the first time in his life he was avoiding his reflection rather than going out of his way to catch a glimpse of it. His hair was damp with sweat, clinging to his dirty, pale face with unruly determination. His wide eyes were sunken and underlined by dark circles and his lips were cracked and dry. His fingernails were jagged and dirty, dry blood crusted beneath them, and his clothes were covered in stains he’d never be able to get out.

When he’d ran away from college, the news hadn’t completely hit home yet. He thought it was one big game, some excitement he couldn’t wait to experience. The first day after his escape, he’d taken shelter in a flat above a shop just a few streets away from his college. He’d been fine until he realised he hadn’t packed any food at all, and his stomach happened to alert the infected inhabitant of the flat from his slumber. His friends had always said his eyes took up all the room in his head, and he’d barely escaped that close encounter, grabbing a sandwich and a few chocolate bars on the way out of the shop, laughing at how slow the miserable creature tottering after him was. It was a game to him, a world of fun where he got to steal and attack people without getting into trouble. He didn’t have to search hard for a weapon; they littered the streets, simple things like kitchen knives and pots and pans. The more heavy duty weapons were usually grasped tightly in the cold, rigid hands of the recently un-deceased so he settled for a frying pan. The streets of inner-city Seoul were thriving with people, both alive and dead. A mess of humans, some trying to escape and some trying to seek some thrills, driven by adrenaline and stupidity. A few had even gathered and organised themselves into a small army - if you could call it that. The real army hadn’t been seen, but it was more than likely they’d been the first to be wiped out.

On his second day after escaping, he’d sat and watched the panic from the safety of an abandoned apartment balcony. He was safer up here than down there, he knew. He’d get crushed in the confusion if he tried to brave the streets below, and so he watched as the ranks broke and the battle cries were drowned out by screams and desperate cries for help. He turned the frying pan in his hands, wondering if he’d actually be able to use it when the shit hit the fan. He’d never seen so much blood before, even a nosebleed made him feel faint. The excitement started to fizzle away, replaced by a deep dread, a fear gnawing at his insides.

This was his third day. The skies had parted in the early morning, cold February rain pummelling the ground. It was a good thing, though. The thundering rainfall made his footsteps hard to hear, making him a shadow, unnoticeable to the meandering, slow undead strewn about the streets. He’d made it to downtown Jung-gu, footsore and weary and soaked to the bone. He’d been prepared for hordes, for screams and carnage, but it was completely peaceful. Miles of silent traffic filled the streets and buildings burned in the skyline behind him yet there wasn’t a soul to be seen, alive nor dead. He took it as a blessing.

His footsteps began to slow, a trudging, tired pace setting in as his muscles started to ache. He looked up from where his gaze had been resting on the sorry state of his favourite shoes, to the view ahead of him. He’d come to the end of an alleyway, the world suddenly growing awfully brighter, and he covered his eyes with his hands as they adjusted to the light. Then he saw it, the most beautiful thing he’d seen in days; a vending machine. The front was torn off and a selection of canned refreshments were on display. His exhaustion faded in a flash, his feet seeming to glide over to the machine, his tongue running over his dry lips, anticipating the cool hydration to come. He grabbed a can of coke, still cold and fresh, and opened it with a crack, a fizzy hiss, glugging the contents like he’d never drank before. It ran down his chin, down his neck, and he wiped it from his lips, sighing in satisfaction. Only then did he check his surroundings, eyes darting here and there, taking in everything around him. He couldn’t have ended up in a better place – hotels and shopping malls sprung up in every direction. Words couldn’t explain how much he longed for a soft bed to collapse in; a far cry from the cold, damp alleyway he’d briefly slept in last night, reeking of urine and alcohol.

And how he could kill for a coffee, black with two sugars. A shower wouldn’t be too far a stretch, either. It was quite a culture shock, going from every material need and comfort he could ever wish for to having only the clothes on his back and the shoes on his feet. He didn’t bother scouting around; he simply aimed for the closest store in sight. A hotel would be too dangerous, too many rooms. This shopping mall was his best bet.

He walked up to the large glass doors, put his hands against them and peeked inside, his breath steaming against the panes. All he saw was darkness. He sighed, tweaked a handle. It wouldn’t budge, he pulled it harder, shook it with all the might he could muster, but nothing happened. He kicked the glass in frustration, a dull thud answering him back. Locked. His only entrance – brilliant. He looked up at the large building towering over him, sighed. His eyes trailed over the fancy gold lettering adorning the polished glass. ‘The Galleria’

As he read the name his eyes grew wide, his over-tired mind springing back into action. His feet moved on their own, walking over to a large marble pillar at the side of the building. He walked slowly around, and felt a thrill ripple through him at the sight of the staff entrance. He silently praised himself, congratulating himself on all his years of unnecessary shoplifting. He had the money, but he wanted the thrill. Places like this were filled with people too busy with their own business to notice him shoving accessories up his over-sized sweater. He’d been here so many times that he knew the exits and entrances like the back of his hand. He took a deep breath; walked up to the rusty grey door and as he exhaled he tried the handle. The paint was peeling away, rust setting in around the knob, and he gritted his teeth as it screeched shrilly before the lock let out a click, the door opening stiffly. He took a moment to thank whatever God he felt like believing in right then. He’d never been religious, but at that moment he had no one else to thank for making him so utterly brilliant.

He felt the heat rush at his face as he stepped inside, closing the door softly behind him. He breathed in the clean air – not stale and reeking of decay like the air outside. He was in complete darkness here, and he walked forward with slow, careful steps, pulling his cell phone from his jeans pocket and flipping it open, using the screen as a torch. He saw a door before him and tapped it open, grabbing it before it could slam against the wall outside. He’d never seen this place like this, so quiet and dark and desolate. It was unnerving. He walked on his tiptoes, trying not to let his shoes squeak on the laminate flooring. He was on the ground floor, the showrooms for kitchens and seating appearing whenever he cast the light of his cell phone upon them. He’d happily crash on one of these sofas, but he had to check this place out first. He’d had a lot of luck so far, but it would be more than luck if this place was empty. He could be in a nest of those things for all he knew, infected hiding in the darkness just waiting to take him unaware. As he continued deeper into the building he noticed how the windows were boarded up, how there were chocolate bar wrappers and crushed soda cans strewn around here and there. There was somebody else here.  
He walked up the stationary escalators to the third floor, and at the sight of beds he could only think of how he wished he could just collapse onto one right then. Even if someone else was here, surely they’d be glad of the company? Someone to watch their back, right? He let his backpack slide from his shoulders, hitting the ground with a soft thump. He kicked off his shoes, shrugged off his coat and put his cell phone back into his jeans. The battery was low and his service was awful, but it could still prove useful. He slid beneath the sheets, nuzzled into a pillow and let sleep pull him under. Just an hour would be enough, he thought. He didn't notice the man sleeping soundly beside him.


	3. Chapter 3

Kyuhyun looked up at his ceiling, suddenly distracted from his game. He hadn't noticed the time pass, so concentrated on what he was doing. Only when he heard somebody outside screaming exceptionally loud did he realise the bed shaking beneath him and the dust pouring down upon his head. He could hear people’s footsteps thudding up and down the hallway outside and the sound of chaos. His curtains were drawn, the only light coming from his laptop, illuminating his face in a cold blue. 

A heart stopping bang echoed outside, a gunshot, and he dived to the ground on instinct, heart thumping wildly in his chest and his eyes darting here and there, trying to adjust to the darkness of his room. As he dived to the ground, so did his laptop, pieces flying everywhere. At the sight of such a tragedy, his heart would've done the same had he not been so distracted. He took a few shuddering breaths, slower and deeper every time before he calmed down. He felt adrenaline coursing through his veins, his heart pumping blood faster than he’d ever experienced before, yet on the outside he was the perfect picture of serenity. He reached around in the dark for clothes, grabbing a pair of dirty jeans and some socks. He sat on the edge of his bed, slipping on his shoes, and he looked at his roommate sleeping soundly beside him. His headphones were in, deafening him to the events unfolding around him. He walked past his bed to the door, sparing a second glance before he twisted the handle and squinted as bright yellow light flooded his eyes. 

He jumped back as a girl grabbed him by the shoulders, her nails digging into his skin as she sobbed frantically, eyeliner running down her face. He’d always thought girls looked ugly when they cried, but this was on another level. ‘They’re coming for us…’ she whispered, trembling. Her eyes were wide and red, and when he looked at her properly he saw blood – lots of it, on her neck, her clothes. She seemed to be looking straight through Kyuhyun when she spoke, as if she was speaking to herself. ‘They have guns – they’re killing us!’ She looked at him then, seeming to realise he was there, and she clawed at his shirt, shaking him back and forth as she threw herself at him, sobbing against his chest. 

Kyuhyun shoved her away and watched her fall to the floor in a pathetic, sobbing heap. He didn’t feel any sympathy for her, especially after she’d smeared her runny nose all over his shirt. He turned and closed the door, turning the knob until the lock clicked before carrying on down the hallway to see what the hell was going on.

‘Min, don’t wake up,’ he whispered under his breath, ‘I’ll be back.’

 

\-----

Sungmin coughed harshly, his lungs feeling heavy in his chest and the air tasting dry and smoky. He pulled out his headphones, sitting up shakily and propping himself up on his weak arms, looking around in the darkness. It was odd - whenever he woke up at night, he'd always see Kyuhyun’s laptop screen glowing from the younger teen’s bed, long fingers skilfully tapping away at his keyboard – it was a wonder the guy had any energy for class after staying up all night - but tonight his bedroom was pitch black. He closed his eyes. He hated the dark. ‘Kyuhyun,' he croaked, his voice sore and scratchy, 'Kyuhyun?' he tried again, but the teen still didn’t respond. He tugged the sheets off his body with effort, swinging his lead-like legs over the side of the bed as he got to his feet unsteadily. He wobbled slightly, off balance. He walked over to Kyuhyun’s bed slowly, wheezing like a chain-smoker, his pyjama-clad legs heavy and stumbling. 

Only when he felt Kyuhyun’s cold pillow beneath his fingertips, when his eyes adjusted to the darkness, did he realise how smoky the room was, how noisy it was outside. It sounded like a war out there. His head started to ache, as if something was squeezing it, and he coughed hard into his palm. He tottered across his messy floor, off balance and coughing violently with every breath he took, feeling himself grow weaker with every step. He felt pain stab his foot dully, and he sat down on his bed, weakly crossing his legs to see what he’d stood on. A piece of Kyuhyun’s shattered laptop jutted out from the arch of his foot, the pain dulled from the lack of oxygen running through his veins. He moved to touch it, to try and remove it, but he felt like he was moving through treacle. His vision blurred and faded and he started to panic. He stood abruptly, grabbing the bed when he nearly fell, and he hobbled towards the door, the shard in his foot driving deeper and deeper. He reached out a hand to turn the doorknob but stopped short when he heard an ominous creak from above. He slowly craned his head upwards, and through his blurry eyes he saw the ceiling dipping down towards him, dust falling into his face. 

He couldn’t move fast enough. He barely had time to suck in a breath as he watched the ceiling come crashing down on top of his head, a sharp jolt of pain coursing through his body as his small frame met the floor, followed hastily by a thick darkness.

 

\---

 

 

Youngwoon blinked through the smoke, his brain working too slow for the situation as it struggled against the drugs flowing through his veins. He watched in vague confusion as his friends ran back and forth, tripping over empty beer cans and bottles of vodka, shouting about guns and army jeeps.

He stood up from his comfortable position on the sofa of his friends’ dorm room, swaying on his feet as the alcohol affected his balance. 'Jungsu' he mumbled, plodding towards the door. He felt a small hand grip his bicep, pulling him back as he reached for the door handle.

'Hyung, don't go out there,' came the high-pitched voice of his roommate, his thin arms straining in a futile effort to spin him around, 'It's dangerous! They have guns! And you're drunk.'

'Jungsu is out there, Ryeowook!' he shouted at the smaller boy, pushing him away roughly and grabbing the door handle. 

'But Hyung, why do you even care, I mean-'

'No, he's my friend. Shut up and go somewhere safe, go find Jongwoon or something.' He slurred, twisting the handle and walking away, slamming the door behind him.

He walked out into the hallway, watching blurry shapes rush past him, some knocking him back against the door as they ran and making his head swim. 

He started off towards his friends’ dorm. The only thing on his blurry, inebriated mind was making sure he was safe. 

He braced himself against the wall to his left as he shuffled along the corridor towards the exit, gunshots raining down from every direction and shrill screams ringing in his ears like tiny splinters piercing the cotton surrounding his sore head. He found himself jumping and flinching in slow motion with every sudden 'bang' and 'crash,' his stomach twisting and turning disapprovingly.

Youngwoon felt the wall he was leaning against come to an end, turning into another hallway. He glanced up towards the rotating doors before him, the light from the moon playing off the broken glass and making him see stars. He stumbled through the doors, barely registering the sting as he trod on the broken glass with his bare feet.

He felt the cold February air slap him in the face as he stepped out onto the grass; cool, damp soil soothing the cuts on his sore feet. He looked around, whipping his head this way and that, seeing people rushing in and out of buildings - so fast he felt the threads of a headache weave themselves around his mind, tugging at his forehead and drawing his eyes back towards the direction he was walking in.

He padded as fast as he could on his wobbly feet towards Jungsu's dorm building, noticing the smoke billowing from the windows and doors - panic and confusion seemed to pour from every exit. There were soldiers running around the front of the building, guns at the ready and shooting at any student that happened to run past.

Youngwoon took in a deep breath as he felt his blood run cold, his heart pumping vigorously in his chest. He darted off to the back of the building, not daring to look anywhere but forwards and hoping to whatever God that no one noticed him in the panic.

'Jungsu...'

He covered his face with his sleeve as he jumped in through an open window, adrenaline sparking his athletic abilities despite the alcohol coursing through his veins. He ran frantically through the hallways, counting every door until he stumbled across the one he was looking for.

The room was thick with smoke. The sprinklers were dripping their last drops of water in a futile attempt to quell the flames licking at the walls and climbing up the curtains. 

Youngwoons’ eyes were everywhere at once, squinting through the smoke in search of his best friend as he coughed and spluttered from behind his sleeve. He felt his tear ducts spring into action as the smoke stung at his eyes.

'Jungsu!' he shouted, sucking in a deep breath of foul air as he felt his lungs swell in protest. He felt himself double over as he hacked and coughed, falling to the floor as he grasped and clawed at the threadbare carpet, flames flickering in his peripheral as the room turned into a yellow and red blur.

'Jung...’

 

 

Sungmin lifted an eyelid but squeezed it shut as a sharp jolt of pain coursed through his head at the invasion of light into his unprepared eyes, flaring the spark of the worst migraine he'd ever experienced. He felt a chill tickle at his bare arms and instinctively snuggled closer to the warmth at his side.

'You're awake then, at last?' came a quiet, familiar voice, making him practically jump out of his skin - which he regretted instantly, head swimming and his migraine intensifying tenfold. He moved to look up at whomever was next to him; cracking an eyelid and feeling a whole world of pain and light flood his unadjusted eyes, his whole face contorting in unveiled pain as he crushed his face against the warmth once again, squeezing his eyes shut against the bright light.

That same bored-sounding voice spoke again. 'You shouldn't move, you hit your head and it's only been a day since you were knocked out.' His bleary, sore mind couldn't quite remember who he was speaking to, but he knew he was safe, anyway. He noticed how the man next to him was whispering, in an obvious attempt at aggravating his headache as little as possible. He smiled softly against the warm fabric of his shirt.

'What happened?' He mumbled softly, his voice muffled by the material. 'I can't remember anything.'

'Well, do you want the long story or the short story?'

'Long. For some reason I feel like we have enough time.'

Kyuhyun - as his mind finally recognised the boy to be - explained everything from before he passed out. He told him about the military coming to evacuate the college, but suddenly drawing their guns instead, turning the evacuation into a mass-murder. He told him about how he'd gone to check what was happening after waking up to the gunshots, but almost being shot himself in his curiosity. 

'One person tried to bite me,' he told him, 'I didn't understand until I left the campus, but I'll get to that in a second. I went back to the dorm to get you, but the door was jammed. I had to kick it through. I found you unconscious underneath the rubble, it looked as if the ceiling had given way and fallen on you. Anyway, I made a bag of necessities and carried you as far away as possible. Since when have you been so heavy, Min?' He chuckled. 

When he didn't hear the smaller man berate him or jab him playfully in the side, he glanced down to where he was currently resting his head. His big, brown doe eyes were closed lightly, mouth parted ever so slightly, breathing softly against his chest. Kyuhyun chuckled soundlessly to himself, moving his head into his lap and absent-mindedly running his fingers through his hair.

He leaned his head back against the wall of the small office they were currently sitting in, taking in a deep breath and letting out a sigh. Replaying everything in his head, he realised just how disconnected he felt to this whole situation. He knew he was in danger, and that was why he escaped, but why did he bring his roommate?

Every game he'd ever played told him, simply, to never take along a companion unless it was necessary for survival. Min was a martial artist, yes, but an injured martial artist wasn't much use, even more so if said martial artist wouldn't be able to walk straight for a considerable amount of time. 

He thought back to when he had left his dorm. When he'd seen that girl, saw the look in her eyes, the way in which she desperately clung to him, he knew something was happening - something much worse than an accident with fireworks as he'd first taken it to be. It wasn't a very prestigious college, full of degenerates and thugs, always getting drunk and trashing everything. The place had been set alight twice before when they’d got too inebriated and sent fireworks flying through the windows. He would've gone somewhere better if his father hadn't passed away; leaving his mother nothing in his will and leaving him no choice but to mix with people someone of his brilliance shouldn't have to breathe the same air as.

He'd made sure no one could get into his room immediately, his door locked at the twist of a knob. He didn't want to return to his room to find some crazed teenagers tearing his room up. Well, that was what he told himself, as he walked down the communal hallway towards - what he guessed to be - the root of all the panic. He didn't expect to see what he saw. He didn't want to believe it, either.

Bodies, strewn across the floor in a bloody mess, clothes pocked with bullet holes. Standing around were uniformed men, dressed in camouflage and holding guns so large he wouldn't even be able to drag them across the floor never mind hold as casually as they did. They were all stern-faced, not noticing Kyuhyun as he peeked around the corner. He saw a girl run out of a hallway, eyes frantic and glazed over, arms flailing wildly as she sped towards the armed men. He flinched back as gunshots rang through his ears, watching the girl flop boneless to the floor, blood pooling around her limp body, a deep crimson soaking into the beige carpets.

He span around, his body working on autopilot. He made his way back to his dorm room, walking as fast as he could, almost sprinting whenever he saw someone turn a corner or walk past him. One boy, harbouring the same crazed look as that girl, practically leapt at him, hands groping around and teeth grinding feverishly in his mouth. He dodged, years of gaming sharpening his reflexes, and sprinted back to his dorm, ignoring every passer by trying to grab his attention. The only thought on his mind was his roommate. 'Sungmin,' he thought, 'please be asleep.'

He tried the handle. It wouldn't budge. He pushed and kicked and pushed again, actions quickly growing frantic and panicked. He collapsed against the door, mind exhausted from the sight he'd just seen. He thought for a second, calm, collected mind quickly re-assembling itself.

He pulled his dorm key out of his jeans pocket, training his face into calm indifference once again, and twisted it in the lock. It didn't budge. He pushed harder, but it seemed to be jammed against something. Sungmin was in there, and there was smoke coming from under the door. He didn't even have to think about it.

Drawing away from the door, he ran at it with all the force his thin frame could muster, falling straight through the weak, cheap wooden door and landing on a pile of rubble. He dusted himself off, eyes searching the dark, smoky room for his roommate. He wasn't in his bed, and he obviously hadn't left the room - his bunny was still there, he didn't go anywhere without it. He looked around frantically, until he noticed a limp, pale hand sticking out from under a pile of what, once, was the ceiling.

'Shit, Min!'

He kneeled down and pushed the debris off his smaller roommate. The air was thick with smoke and dust; something must've caught fire in the block. Kyuhyun, after unveiling his roommate from beneath the remainder of the ceiling, immediately picked him up and set him on his bed. He ran to the window, opening it to clear the air - but when he pulled back the curtain he saw everything.

Army jeeps were parked all along the campus grounds, uniformed men running back and forth, gunshots raining down like an out-of-control riot. Students were limping along the grass, eyes wild and clothes drenched with blood, all stiff and unsure on their feet. Kyuhyun had seen all the movies worth watching, and a thrill ran through him as realisation dawned.

He opened the window and ran back to Sungmin, his lips were turning blue and there was blood dripping from his forehead. He pressed his hand to Sungmin’s mouth, checking for breath, but not a puff touched his skin. He immediately performed CPR, pumping feverishly at the smaller boys’ chest and sharing as much air as he could from his own lungs without choking. 

The smaller boy coughed and choked a sharp gasp of air from his pale lips. Kyuhyun let out a sigh of relief, and ran into their small kitchen, pulling out a first aid kit and random canned foods, placing everything in a rucksack. He grabbed some bottled water from the fridge and pulled the throw from the bottom of his bed.

He shrugged on a jacket and quickly dressed his roommate in warmer clothes before slinging him over a bony shoulder and rushing out of their dorm. He didn't look back, the screams and endless rounds of gunfire were enough to tell him which way was safe and which wasn't.

He should have found the going a lot tougher with Sungmin over his shoulder, but with the adrenaline coursing through his veins he could hardly feel the weight, thinking only of which way to turn and planning his route off campus.

And that was how he'd got there. He hadn't managed to get far, there were over three-thousand students at his school, and the gunmen were pretty much everywhere. He'd collapsed from exhaustion in one of the caretaking buildings, pushing everything in the room against the doors and windows, and not daring to light a match or flip a switch.

He hadn't slept a wink. Eyes trained on the door, on the window, and most of all, Sungmin. The colour had slowly returned to his face overnight, cold hands growing warmer by the hour. He'd cleaned up the gash on his forehead as soon as he'd set him down, not wanting it to get infected.

He couldn’t let it get infected. He'd be even more of a hindrance.


	4. Chapter 4

Jungsu towel-dried his rich auburn hair, kicking a few books out of his path as he walked over to his bed. There was a commotion outside - different to the usual. He could hear people coming out of their rooms, asking what the fuss was about.

He pulled his towel off and wrapped it around his shoulders, turning to look at his roommate. 

'Jongwoon, what's wrong?' he asked, noticing the tense expression on the younger mans’ normally calm, open face. Jongwoon stood up from his bed and walked into their small kitchen, grabbing snacks and bottled water before pulling a large duffel bag from under his bed and dropping everything inside it. 

'Jongwoon?' Jungsu gave the boy a questioning look, wondering where his roommate would be going so late at night - and in such a rush, at that.

'Hyung, don't wait for me, okay? I'm going to find Ryeowook and Shindong.' Jongwoon said hastily, not even glancing at Jungsu as he strode towards the door.

'Why? What's wrong?' Jungsu stood up, worry etched into his features. Jongwoon stopped and turned around, fixing Jungsu with a hard look.

'While you were in the shower, I heard people outside.' he started, his words falling from his mouth so fast he stumbled over the syllables, 'They said they saw soldiers - with guns. It looks like they're coming this way. Don't look out of the window.' He turned to the door again, opening it and stepping into the hallway before looking once more over his shoulder at Jungsu. 'Get out of here, hyung.'

Jungsu watched as his roommate took off down the corridor, leaving their door ajar and Jungsu completely confused. 'Don't look out the window? Why?' he mumbled to himself. He wasn't stupid, so he didn't pull back the tatty, cheap curtains to look outside - not noticing the rumbling of engines slowly drawing nearer to the building as he pulled on a pair of jogging bottoms and thick warm socks, getting comfortable at his small desk and poring over some books.

He nudged his glasses with a pale knuckle as they slipped down the bridge of his nose.

Youngwoon.

He closed the book he was looking at; he was too tense to concentrate. He knew his best friend had gone drinking with Ryeowook and a few other guys from his little group of under-achievers. Worthless, the lot of them. All they did was drink the day away, never spending any time on their studies and pushing the other students around like they owned the place. 

Jungsu always thought Youngwoon was better than that, but he noticed how the younger man would always ignore him if his friends were around. He was too ashamed to be anywhere near Jungsu in case his friends saw, only coming over when they were busy or he was too hung-over to go out and party with them.

Jungsu pulled on a warm sweater and slipped on his cheap, second-hand Nikes’. Heechul always told him off for being too frumpy, but he valued comfort over fashion, and it was a cold night. He stepped out into the corridor, seeing Shindong’s chubby face amongst a group of students bustling about in the narrow hallway. He waved him over. 

'Any idea what's going on?' he asked the chubbier boy, a soft smile on his face. However calm he looked on the outside, he was feeling the complete opposite inside. The people pushing past them were making him anxious. What was the rush? Was Jongwoon being serious?

'Not a clue. I was just going to check what the commotion was. People keep talking about soldiers, there are like twenty huge vans pulled up out front. Something to do with an evacuation or something...'

'An evacuation? Why?'

'I don't know, honestly. I'm gonna walk ahead. Stay safe, hyung.' Shindong gave him a quick smile and patted him on the back before weaving through the crowd with admirable swiftness - for someone with such a big body, he was surprisingly agile.

Jungsu calmly made his way through the corridor, being pushed and shoved as he went by frantic students. He found himself in a large circle of people, maybe sixty or more, all gathered in the small dorm lobby. He glanced around the room at their faces, noting how tense and confused everyone looked. There was only a little bit of chatting, a quiet hum buzzing around the room as people whispered between themselves, all asking what was going on. He spotted one of his classmates in the crowd and made his way over, pushing past the tightly-packed bodies in his way.

'Hyukjae' he whispered to the boy, it felt wrong to talk at a normal volume whilst everyone else was so hushed. Hyukjae seemed to snap out of a daze as he whipped his head towards Jungsu, almost head-butting him in their close proximity.

'Hyung.' he smiled. It wasn't his usual wide, gummy smile. He looked tense. Why was everyone so tense?

'Any idea what's going on?' he nodded towards the people around them, 'Why is everyone in here?'

'One of the lecturers just came in. He said the soldiers were going to examine us and look around our dorms. They're going to take us away with them.' he looked away, 'He didn't say why, or where.' 

Jungsu stood, staring at Hyukjae for a few still moments. Why would they need to examine them? Where were they taking them? Half of the people who lived in the dorms weren't even there right then, either out in town partying or working their part-time jobs. What about them?

As he was thinking to himself, he noticed that the room had gone completely silent, the atmosphere suddenly so tense you could slice it with a knife. Jungsu sucked in a shuddering breath.

Everyone turned towards the doors at the front of the room as they were thrust open. In trudged a solder. Two solders. Three. More and more started filing in one after the other, students having to push themselves back against the walls as the room filled up. There were about twenty soldiers, all armed and expressionless.

A big, burly man - Jungsu assumed he was the man in command - stepped forward and regarded the students with a long, cold stare. Jungsu swallowed thickly, regretting his decision to wear a thick jumper as the air in the room started to grow thick and humid.

Finally, the man spoke, his voice deep and sharp.

'Each of you must undergo a quick, simple examination. Do not resist. Do not ask questions. When we have finished the examinations you may return to your rooms to gather your belongings. Return here immediately. That is all.' He turned on his heel and strode back out of the building.

They were lead outside into the courtyard, lined up in front of a large, white tent. It was eerily silent, the only noise being the crunch of feet against the gravel and the sharp click of the soldiers’ rifles as they paced back and forth.

He heard a commotion from the front of the line - he was quite far back - and noticed how the soldiers to his left and right seemed to grip their rifles tighter, faces pulled taught and stern. There was shouting and movement near the tent, whispering and mumbling passing along the line like a noisy game of Chinese whispers.

He threw himself to the ground as a gunshot rang out across the courtyard, echoing in his head and halting the breath passing through his lips. He felt the gravel graze his chin, and tentatively lifted his head, quickly glancing around to see what was going on. Everyone had reacted in the same manner as Jungsu, all crouching low to the ground and not daring to move too much - if these guys were shooting, it would be best not to attract their attention.

Jungsu flinched as a girl not too far in front of him let out a sharp, shrill keening noise. He watched with his face close to the ground as her back shook violently, sobs echoing in the silence, shouts and screams seeming to ring out from every direction moments later as students slowly got to their feet, leaving Jungsu crouched down, hands and elbows digging harshly into the small stones beneath them as he fought for breath. He didn't deal well with stress.

He fought against his instinct to stay as still as possible, shaking as he rose unsteadily to his feet and looked past the frantic students towards the tent. He felt his heart skip a beat as his eyes took in the scene before him.

The soldiers had all gathered around the tent, faces grim, weapons raised. There was a leg lying limp at the edge of the tent, body hidden behind the blood-soaked material as the campus flood-lights illuminated the viscous, crimson liquid dripping down into the grass.

He stood rooted to the spot, throwing out a hand to grab Hyukjae as he ran past, but flinching back when he saw the look on the boy’s face. He supposed must've looked somewhat the same. He was pale, his eyes wide and frantic, thick lips pulled taught and stiff. Jungsu let go. Hyukjae carried on running.

He started walking backwards; where could he go? He needed to warn his friends.

Youngwoon.

He knew the man would be too drunk to listen, and he had no idea where he was, anyway. He placed his bets on Jongwoon finding him with Ryeowook and taking them to safety. He sprinted away from the tents, fighting against the students as he went in the opposite direction, away from his dorm.

Heechul.

He hoped to God his best friend was still awake - there were consequences for waking a sleepy Kim Heechul, and being shot seemed like a nice way to go in comparison.

He practically threw himself at the push doors, flying through and knocking into a few other students, all giving him curious glances. People were gathered around the windows, obviously having heard the gunshot. Jungsu kept running.

He skidded along the laminate flooring as he reached his childhood friends dorm, pushing the door open he threw himself onto the floor, catching his breath and spitting out the fluff from the awful pink shag carpet.

'Jungsu?' came Heechul’s disinterested murmur. 'I'm guessing you're here because of that gunshot, right?'

‘How did you know it was a gunshot? I thought it was a firework at first and you’re much further away than I was.’

Heechul sat back on his bed, bringing his slender legs up to his chin and wrapping his thin arms around them, tilting his head to look condescendingly down at Jungsu sprawled out on his floor, sweaty and panting for breath. He yawned.

'Heechul,' Jungsu panted, pushing himself off the floor and looking up at his friend, eyes wide and deep worry lines set into his forehead, 'These people… they just shot someone right in front of my eyes, dead.'

'What?' Heechul’s eyes widened - more than usual, if that was possible. 'Who?'

'I don't know; I could only see their leg sticking out of the te-'

'No, I meant who shot them, stop being stupid.' Heechul cut in, narrowing his eyes and shaking his head as if he was talking to a child.

'There are soldiers, lots of them. I…I didn't wait around to see what happened next.'

Heechul sat up suddenly, wobbling a little as his bed bounced beneath the movement, knocking a few stuffed toys onto the floor.

'You serious?' he gawked at Jungsu, suddenly looking extremely interested in what he was telling him.

'Yes, I was there, I think a few people were still asleep in their dorms when it happened, though.'  Jungsu stood up; pushing his hair out of his face and nudging his glasses back against the bridge of his nose.

Jungsu almost jumped out of his skin when another gunshot shook the building, hearing a dull thud as Heechul fell off his bed.

'Holy Christ!' He heard him exclaim from the other side of the bed. He jumped up and started running around his small room.

'What're you doing?'

'Thinking!'

'You think?' Jungsu chuckled, proud of his wit, before he felt something hard hit the back of his head. 

He watched his friend flit around, grabbing bundles of clothing from his messy floor and shoving them into his pink backpack.

'Why on Earth are you packing clothes?' Jungsu asked, incredulous.

'Clothes are important!' Jungsu didn't laugh. Heechul was dead serious. 'Aren't you going to look for your boyfriend?' smirked Heechul, slinging his backpack over a skinny shoulder and slipping his sockless feet into an expensive-looking pair of leather boots. 

Heechul's parents were painfully rich, but they sent him to this shitty college in an attempt of straightening him out. It didn't work. There was no iron on Earth that could straighten the creases out of Kim Heechul.

'He's not my boyfriend, shut up.' Jungsu huffed indignantly, turning towards the window to hide his burning cheeks.

'Yeah, not while you dress like that anyway, you look like a member of H.O.T' he stuck out his tongue as Jungsu turned to shoot him a glare.

'Where are you going?' he asked as he watched Heechul make for the door.

'Uh, as far away from the scary men with guns as possible? I've already planned out my death and it 'aint nothin' like this...' Heechul mumbled as he walked out of his room and down the corridor, only a bag of clothes and designer shoes to his name.

\----

After Heechul left, the gunfire became much more frequent. There was at least one shot every few minutes, and Jungsu jumped out of his skin each and every time. He left Heechul’s room after a few minutes, letting himself calm down before even attempting to go in search of Youngwoon. On his way out of the building he quickly called into all the rooms, telling the students to get away as soon as possible.

He'd bumped into Donghae and Kibum outside of the lecture building, they were searching for Hyukjae. Apparently they'd seen Youngwoon wobbling across campus; barefoot and shitfaced and heading towards Jungsu's dorm building. It sounded quite accurate in the respect that Youngwoon couldn't hold his liquor for the life of him, and it was just like him to be getting drunk at such a bad time. They begged him to stay with them, warning him of how bad things had gotten, but he only shook his head and thanked them, leaving them behind.

He spotted Shindong walking with Ryeowook and Jongwoon on his way out of the building, and he apprehended them. All three of them looked like they were in a rush.

'He was pretty drunk, Hyung.' Ryeowook told him when he asked about Youngwoon. 'He'd been drinking himself into the couch all night; I'm surprised he could even walk. He wouldn't listen to me when I asked him to stay with us. He went looking for you, so you'd better run if you want to find him, he left a good five minutes ago, and your building is on fire...' Ryeowook trailed off as Jungsu turned to sprint, leaving him mid-sentence. 

\----

Jungsu sprinted across the large expanse of grass from where he was stood with the other boys, an orange glow setting his features alight, flames dancing and flickering in his dark, brown eyes. He slowed down, needing to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. His dorm was on fire. Youngwoon was most likely in his dorm. The windows were closed.

He tensed his muscles underneath his thick sweater, covering his face with his sleeve and charging at his window, squeezing his eyes shut as the glass shattered and fell around him. He felt the floor hard beneath him and ignored the dull ache in his shoulder from the impact, choking on the smoke filling his lungs. He got to his knees with intent, shaking his head to free himself of his shattered glasses. 

He looked around, trying to stay calm even as sweat clung to his skin. The room slowly cleared as the smoke passed out of the window and he could see the curtains were quickly burning away, the newly found oxygen feeding the flames.

His eyes started to sting, and as he scanned the room he gasped, seeing the shape of Youngwoon lying face-down next to his bed, the flames starting to lick at his jeans. 

Contrary to popular belief, Jungsu was actually quite strong. He crawled over to where Youngwoon lay, slinging one of Youngwoon’s limp, heavy arms over one of his bony shoulders. He groaned as he stood, lifting Youngwoon’s dead-weight up and dragging him out into the hallway.

He instantly understood what Donghae had meant when he said things had gotten worse. People were running frantically up and down the smoky hallway, all looking completely terrified. He saw a girl run past him; she was bloody, her hair everywhere. There was a large wound on her shoulder; the skin and flesh seemingly bitten clean off. She was manic, eyes wild and unfocused. He watched as she jumped on another student, sinking her teeth into his neck as he screamed and thrashed around, begging for someone to help. Anyone.

Jungsu couldn't watch any longer, closing his eyes and taking a breath, people knocking into him every few seconds. He heard the door to his left open, looking up as Kyuhyun emerged carrying Sungmin on his shoulder. The smaller boy was completely limp, skin pale and scratched up. He was covered in dust and pieces of plaster, spots of blood on his forehead. Kyuhyun didn't waste any time, taking off at an admirable pace and not even sparing a glance at Jungsu.

Thinking it was about time he got out too, he followed Kyuhyun’s lead, the weight of Jongwoon on his shoulder making the going tough as his bare, bloody feet dragged a red line along the carpet. He strode with determination, his focus solely on escaping. He walked through the glassless gaps in the rotating doors, hearing the glass crunch beneath his shoes. He didn’t look back; he just kept walking as fast as he could across campus towards the parking lot.

He heaved a sigh of relief when he finally dropped Youngwoon’s heavy body onto the bonnet of his car, his nervous fingers fumbling at his keys. He could hear the screams and gunfire all around him, and he cursed as his keys fell from his trembling hands. He grabbed them, turning them in the lock and pulling open the driver’s door. After arduously pulling back his seat and throwing Youngwoon in the back of the car, he wiped the sweat from his brow and sank into the driver’s seat, resting his head for a moment on the cold leather of the steering wheel. 

He couldn’t believe this was really happening.

Jungsu reminded himself to punch Youngwoon when he woke up.

He strapped himself in and pulled out of the parking lot, noticing with distaste the lack of gas in the tank. He didn't know where he was going to go; he just hoped he wouldn't be stopping any time soon.


	5. Chapter 5

Yawning, Hankyung blinked the sleep from his eyes, his pupils slowly adjusting to the pale morning light flooding through the windows. He felt refreshed, every inch of his body aching from how hard he'd been working the day before. Pulling the soft quilting tighter around himself, he felt it pull taut, stuck under something.

Rolling over, he took a deep breath. And after that, another breath. He blinked. He blinked again. No, it was still there. He wasn't dreaming.

Opposite him lay a boy. Not a zombie, but a boy. He looked like a model resting after a photo-shoot, mud painted onto his pretty features, hair styled to look rough and untamed, plump lips parted in a small 'o', blowing small puffs of air between deep, unattractive snores.

'Excuse me?' he whispered, his voice rough from sleep. 'Excuse me?' reaching across, he shook the boy gently, causing him to let out a grumpy moan and fidget in his sleep. He was still fully clothed, Geng noticed, his silken shirt spotted with blood.

'Hello?' He shook the boy again, raising his voice a little, but keeping his tone soft so as not to scare him. The handsome boys' eyes fluttered open, and he lay there dazed, blinking a few times and looking at Hankyung with vague confusion.

'Who are you?' He mumbled blearily, nuzzling his head back into his pillow, too tired to react properly to the fact he was in bed with a complete stranger.

'Shouldn't I be asking you that?' Hankyung chuckled softly, somehow he didn't feel at all uncomfortable next this guy, which was odd. You should always feel uncomfortable when you wake up in bed with a stranger - for more reasons than one. Maybe it was just the joy of seeing another human being alive and well. 'This is my hiding place, and you've made the sheets dirty.'

The younger looking man sat up at that, looking at his clothes solemnly. 'Are there showers here? I feel disgusting.'

'I'm sorry, what?' Hankyung blurted. Was this guy really only thinking about having a shower after waking up with a complete stranger?

'You deaf? Is there somewhere I can have a shower?'

He obviously wasn't as pretty with his words as he was with his looks.

'Well, no, this is a shopping mall, you'll have to use the sink and soap if you want to freshen up.' Hankyung spoke slowly, completely confused as to why anyone would expect there to be an operational shower in a shopping mall. He saw the boys' face sour at the news, and quickly tried to quell the brewing storm. 'But I'm sure I can set up a shower unit by tonight, I mean, there are showers they're just on display. I just have to connect them to a water supply and stuff...'

A smile spread over the boys' plump lips and he rose to his feet, reaching for the ceiling as he stretched his arms with a groan. Hankyung pretended he wasn't ogling the pale slip of skin the motion revealed, his silk shirt lifting ever so slightly. He heard an arrogant snort, and when he lifted his eyes he met a pair of large, knowing ones staring right back.

He wasn't sure whether he imagined the slightly exaggerated sway in the boys hips as he sauntered away in search of a bathroom.

\--------

Heechul freshened up briskly, scrubbing the dirt from his face and body with a soapy, wet towel. It wasn't the best, but it was better than nothing.  He thought briefly about the man he'd woken up with. His voice was soft, the Korean words leaving his lips in strange way. He had to be foreign, maybe Chinese. He smirked to himself at that.  
'Exotic.'  
He regarded his reflection in the small, dirty mirror, running his tongue over his teeth and wishing he'd grabbed a toothbrush or something on the way there. He smoothed a milky hand over his silk shirt, mourning its previous splendour as his fingers ran over the rough, dry spots of blood. 

He ran his fingers through his wet black hair and sighed. How did he end up here? Why was he so rash? Gods, why did he act on impulse instead of thinking things through? He'd left Jungsu to fend for himself out of sheer childish excitement and the guilt hit him like a train. He turned around and leant back against the sink, letting his chin drop to his chest, his eyes cast to his feet. He worried his bottom lip between his teeth, his fingers playing against the material of his back pocket, tracing the bulge of his cell phone. Would it still work? Would Jungsu even answer? He thought back to the events that brought him here. Though he didn’t show it, Heechul really cared for his friends – even if he didn’t have many. He hadn’t had time to worry about Jungsu until now. He knew his friend was intelligent, and he was certain he’d find a way out; but then there was Youngwoon.

Heechul and Jungsu were childhood friends, tackling the hardships of school and adolescence together. They relied on each other; Heechul always saving Jungsu from skirmishes and the likes, and Jungsu always saving Heechul from his apathy towards the educational system and the problems his sharp tongue often got him into. 

Heechul had seen Youngwoon around school, always surrounded by the schools less intelligent livestock. He had no idea as of when Jungsu and Youngwoon had become friends, but he noticed the looks they'd give each other when they crossed paths in hallways; Jungsu always offering a smile, where Youngwoon would quickly look away, looking ashamed.

Jungsu gradually spent less time with Heechul out of school, always making petty excuses. Heechul knew Jungsu was a pushover, his endless amounts of kindness always ended up leading him into trouble. Youngwoon was trouble. Heechul noticed the bruises marring his best friends usually flawless skin. He noticed how he'd started wearing baggy clothing, leaving no skin uncovered, only his face left to reveal small cuts and grazes from Youngwoon's drunken mood swings.

Heechul would always tell Jungsu to stay away from Youngwoon, he was no good; only speaking to him when it suited his needs, treating him like filth when his mood called for it. Jungsu told Heechul not to start trouble with Youngwoon; and despite his inner protests, he heeded his best friends wishes - he owed him that much.

Yet, needless to say, Youngwoon was positively terrified of Heechul. He didn't need to thump him to scare him off; one glare from those big, brown eyes was enough to keep anyone away.

Jungsu was blind, blind with love and stupidity. He only hoped he'd left that burden behind, saving himself and leaving Youngwoon behind as a nice meal for the infected populace

Thinking about it, he was brought back to the reality of his present situation. He'd just wandered into this building, not even thinking twice before collapsing; waking up and finding himself lying in bed with a complete stranger. Even if the stranger was mighty handsome this was obviously not the way to go about keeping yourself alive at the end of the world. This man could be a rapist, a murderer, anything. 

He jumped out of his inner monologue as his left buttock started to vibrate frantically, his hands flying to his back pocket, barely fishing his cell phone out in time to answer the call.

'Heechul! Where are you? Are you safe?' came a familiar voice, high pitched and urgent, shouting down the phone and making Heechul grimace and recoil from the receiver before practically smacking the small piece of plastic back against his ear.

'Jungsu? I'm in town, I'm fine; but what about you? You're not driving, are you?' Heechul knew just how awful his friend was when it came to cars. Many a time he'd considered simply jumping out of the passenger window when he'd foolishly accepted a ride. Letting Jungsu drive was like signing your life away.

'I'm fine, of course I'm driving! There are abandoned cars everywhere, though. I haven't seen anyone since I left college, what happened? Why has everything stopped? Everything's on fire, half of the roads are either closed or filled with wreckage. I've been driving three days straight. I tried to go back to my parents house but there were barricades everywhere; and it looks like those soldiers didn't only come for us, they were all over the streets about two days ago. Where in the town are you? I'm close to the precinct and I'm running out of gas.'

For someone so intelligent, Jungsu was an idiot. Heechul was surprised he was still alive – three days without sleep and driving; that was an accident waiting to happen.

'I'm in the Galleria. Go to the parking lot, I'll find a way to let you in. Be careful, don't talk to anyone – I'm pretty sure they won't be approaching you to compliment your super cool 90's haircut. Hurry up or I'll leave you out there.' Heechul didn't bother to wait for a response, pressing the 'end call' button before standing and checking his reflection once more in the mirrors.

It would probably be wise to tell the Chinese man about the newcomer, this being his hidey-hole and everything, but then again...  
...when had Kim Heechul ever been polite?  
\-----

Hankyung turned off the cooker, setting out a plate and scooping a handsome amount of egg fried rice onto it. He fished out some sauces from the spice cupboard, wishing he'd taken some sort of cooking class. He was never good in the kitchen, and it was hard coming to terms with the fact he'd be living off egg fried rice for the rest of his days.

'What're you cookin'?' came a voice from over his shoulder, and Hankyung squeezed the bottle of sauce in his hands a little tighter as he jumped, drenching the rice in the thick, spicy solution. He heard a soft chuckle as the boy came to lean against the counter. 'Gods, you're jumpy. Well, I suppose it's reasonable with those... things outside.' Hankyung watched as he scooped a stray blob of sauce off the counter, sucking the tip of his finger with a soft 'pop'. Hankyung sucked in a breath - whipping his head in the opposite direction.

'You shouldn't creep up on people.' He grumbled, fetching another plate and scooping the remaining rice out, subtly sliding the plate towards the boy. 'Want some? You looked pretty rough this morning so I'm assuming you've been out there a little while, and I made enough for two...'

He watched the handsome man's eyes light up (definitely didn't watch his tongue flick out to swipe against his lower lip) and laughed softly at the sound of his growling stomach. He watched him press a hand to his gut, an expression of betrayal on his features before he broke out into laughter too.

'I think I woke up in the right place this morning.' He grinned before taking his plate and taking a seat.

Hankyung felt dizzy.

\-------------

Heechul glanced up from his food as a chair was pulled up to the table he was seated at, the Chinese man taking a sitting down opposite him.

'Where did you learn to cook this?' he mumbled through a mouthful of rice, ungraciously spitting a few grains over the table, sauce running down his chin.

'My mother cooked it a lot when I still lived with her. It's just egg fried rice, it's the sauce that makes it taste fancy,' the Chinese man replied quietly, a small smile gracing his handsome face, 'but more importantly, who are you and why were you in bed with me?'

'You make it sound as though I drugged and seduced you' Heechul scoffed, setting his chopsticks aside. 'I was exhausted. I came in through the staff entrance and collapsed when I saw the bed, I was just as shocked as you when I woke with you shouting in my face. I'm Heechul. Kim Heechul.'

'Kim Heechul?' The Chinese boy repeated, 'third year, studying English and psychology?'

Heechul eyed him suspiciously. 'You went to my college?'

'Briefly. I had to leave to take up full time work. I recognise your name,' he smiled, making Heechul blink and relax his intense glare on the other boy, 'I remember overhearing people talking about you now and then.'

'I don't really remember seeing you around college,' Heechul shrugged, 'What did people talk about, then? I don't remember being all that popular.' Heechul pulled his seat closer to the table, picking his chopsticks back up and digging into the remnants of the now not-so-warm rice.

'Well, if you don't know about it yourself, I don't think I should tell you,' mumbled the Chinese boy, sounding slightly insecure, 'it's not nice.' This, of course, made Heechul even more intrigued, and he beckoned the taller boy to continue with a not-so-gentle kick to his shin and a sharp nod of his head.

'It was just general gossip and rumours. Silly stuff. Guys were always talking about your 'sleeping habits' - to put it nicely. The girls didn't seem to like you much, either.' Heechul watched as the boy opposite him fidgeted awkwardly in his seat, his eyes looking anywhere but at Heechul.

Heechul let out an ungraceful snort, clapping his hands together - somewhat resembling a seal - and rocking back and forth in his chair. The other boy looked positively terrified.

'Oh my God, people are so pathetic,' Heechul croaked out, taking in a deep breath and clutching his stomach, 'I kissed a guy when I was like, 17, and they've gone crazy with it, gosh.'

'Why would they make up so many hurtful things, then?' The boy frowned, looking down at the table.

'Because I'm gorgeous and they couldn't get in my pants? Girls didn't like me because they just didn't quite understand the fact that I'm gay and I wasn't delicate about rejecting them. What, you believed them?' Heechul inquired, regaining his composure - well, whatever composure he had - and leaning over the table, a smirk playing over his lips.

'No.' The boy looked up again, dark brown eyes staring straight into Heechul's. His smirk dropped. 'Who am I to judge you on petty rumours? I think I only ever saw you once, walking past me in a corridor. And even if it were true, what difference does your sexual reputation make to you as a person?'

Heechul leaned back in his seat, fighting away the soft smile that was twitching at his lips. He scraped his chair back against the floor and stood up, turning and walking out of the restaurant.

Hankyung could only watch as Heechul walked away, his eyebrows raised to the heavens. He disappeared around the corner, popping his head back around only a few seconds later. 'What's your name, China?' he shouted from behind the wall, cheeks puffed out as if he was doing something painfully humiliating.

'Hankyung.' Geng smiled back at him, resting an arm on the back of his chair as he turned in his seat.

'That doesn't sound very Chinese.'

'It's Geng. Han Geng. It's hard to pronounce.'

'Hm.' And with that the boy disappeared around the corner, the sound of his shoes echoing as they squeaked across the laminate flooring.

'Wow.' he mumbled to himself, picking up the plates and washing them before heading up to the roof.

He breathed in the cold February air as he stepped out onto the concrete, walking to the edge and leaning over the railing. The air smelled foul and thick with smoke. He took in the skyline; buildings still burning away, dark wisps of smoke curling away into the dark, grey sky. There were cars piled up on top of one another, roads filled with wreckage and the crumbled remains of buildings littering the sidewalks.

Hankyung sighed, turning his attention to the shopping centre below and taking out a pair of binoculars from his belt loop.

There wasn't much going on down in the precinct, a few slower creatures were flailing their wobbly limbs at pigeons, obviously not picky with their meat. He watched passively as one of the undead dragged a limp leg behind his decaying body, clothes torn and stained with dry blood. Its eyes were pale and red around the lids, unblinking, dry and dirty, jaw clenching and unclenching in a slow rhythm.

He caught something moving fast in his peripheral and quickly turned his gaze, seeing two boys, maybe nineteen or twenty years old, walking hastily through the precinct, the taller teen had his small companions arm slung over his shoulder and seemed to be struggling with the weight, a large black duffel bag hanging off his other shoulder.

He didn't know why he did it, but he did. He hooked two fingers over his bottom lip and let out a long, sharp whistle. The taller boys head whipped around frantically, searching for the origin of the sound before finally noticing Hankyung's position. Sadly, he wasn't the only one who noticed. Hankyung sprinted back into the building and down the stairs, running to let the boys in before the undead suddenly learned how to run.

'And here I was thinking I was the last person alive...'

Kyuhyun brushed a knotted wisp of black hair away from Sungmin's sleeping face, pushing it behind his ear and watching the slow rise and fall of his chest. He hadn’t slept a wink; too busy watching over the other man. 

Sungmin only woke up once or twice since the accident, only ever asking for a sip of water. He couldn’t keep down any food; Kyuhyun guessed he’d sustained some kind of head injury - something his meagre first aid wouldn’t suffice for. He’d been wheezing in his sleep, too, the smoke still clogging his lungs and making his golden skin turn a pale yellow.

A Chinese man had let them in just as Sungmin had gone limp in his arms, exhausted from the small amount of exercise he'd endured as they'd rushed into the precinct. He’d asked Kyuhyun to let him walk; ‘I’m not that weak, Kyuhyun,’ he’d said, ‘you’re tired; don’t let me be a burden.’

You’ll never be a burden, Min.

When he's heard the whistle from above, he’d been scared out of his wits; previously docile, useless zombies suddenly becoming alert and groaning as they shuffled towards him; limp arms hanging at their sides, feet scraping against the smooth concrete.

He’d ran as fast as he could with the little energy he had left, Sungmin making the going all the more tough as his limp body weighed down on Kyuhyun’s weak shoulders. He saw a man run towards him, and at first he’d tried to run away from him, but then he realised the man was quite obviously alive and in no way cannibalistic – as far as he could tell, and he ran into the building as the man directed. The man stayed behind to ‘divert’ the undead from the large building they'd entered.

The interior of the building was huge, but Kyuhyun had barely noticed, rushing across the sleek, oak flooring towards the first seat he could find. He found a lot of seats - being in a showroom full of sofas - and set Sungmin on a large, L-shaped couch, propping his head up with cushions and pulling the throw out of his rucksack, draping it over the smaller teen. They'd been there for almost an hour.

Sungmin was ice cold, the cool February weather unrelenting throughout their journey, and he rubbed at his small hands without a second thought. He’d never known himself to be the caring type. He let out a sigh of relief when Sungmin’s eyes fluttered open once more, tired and full of questions. His lips were cracked and dry, mouth trying to form words; coughing with the strain on his lungs. Kyuhyun quickly unzipped his duffel bag, handing him a cool bottle of water.

‘I feel dizzy.’ He whispered, his voice sounding sore and tight. His eyes were squeezed shut against the bright light flooding through the windows. He took a small sip of water. ‘Where are we?’

‘Some shopping mall I think.' He got to his feet and walked over to the windows, pulling the huge black curtains across the glass and feeling his way back to Sungmin in the darkness. 'We’re safe, I think. Go to sleep, I’ll be here when you wake up.’ He spared Sungmin an assuring smile, even though he knew he couldn't see it, before looking around at their surroundings. Soon enough he could hear quiet snores, catching the bottle before it slipped from Sungmin's limp grasp.

A small amount of light seeped into the room, before he heard someone approach, shoes clicking against the floors. He moved away from Sungmin a little, but not so much that he couldn’t grab him if things went wrong. He didn’t want to look too affectionate towards the smaller boy – as to why he was so bothered about it... he didn’t want to ask himself.

The Chinese man, as Kyuhyun had guessed him to be from the intonations in his speech, appeared from the door he’d entered through, clothes covered in gore and sweat glistening on his brow. So that’s what he'd meant by ‘divert’.

‘Is your friend well?’ he asked politely, walking towards Kyuhyun, but stopping when he noticed the boy visibly tense; moving closer to the sleeping figure next to him, somewhat resembling a lioness protecting her cub. ‘He looks sick.’ There was something else in the way he said it, an insinuation to something dangerous, something threatening. Kyuhyun repeated it in his mind, trying to gauge what kind of man he was talking to.

‘He’s tired, hurt his head a few days ago. Nothing you can help.’ Kyuhyun didn’t spare any pleasantries, he needed to know if this man meant well or not, and he wasn’t going to put Sungmin's in any danger while he was in such a poor state.

‘I didn’t mean to offend you, I’ll leave you in peace; just remember I’m as wary of you as you are of me.’ He spared him a reassuring smile, walking away and calling over his shoulder quietly as he went, minding the sleeping boy; ‘My name is Hankyung. There’s antibiotics and food behind you in the market. Don’t try and use the kitchens down here, they’re just for show. There are four more floors so don’t get lost, and don’t freak out if you see another guy here. That’s just Heechul. I suggest you avoid him as much as you can.’ He chuckled as he disappeared around a corner, footsteps growing quieter before all that could be heard was the quiet clinking of the boilers as they pumped warmth into the large building.

Kyuhyun let out a breath, relaxing back against the couch and stretching his tired arms above his head, humming softly when he heard a click. His feet were sore and blistered, legs aching from overexertion. He’d never taken part in any physical activities, not even in high school; he was regretting that decision now, pulling off his shoes and socks and nursing the balls of his feet. 

He must’ve looked a mess; brown, curly hair knotted and dirty, his jacket ripped and his shirt reeking of sweat. His eyes were deeply set, dark circles making his boyishly handsome face look puffy and tired. He felt thin, stretched.

He looked back at Sungmin in the dim light; dark hair fanned out against the couch, his pretty face spotted with plaster and marred by grazes, his usually rosy lips pale and chapped from the cold weather and dehydration.

Yet he still looked beautiful.

Kyuhyun quickly cut off that train of thought. He didn’t feel that way - he refused to feel that way. Sungmin was nothing more than a burden. A burden he cared far too deeply about. They were room mates, that's all. He was as close as he had to a friend. Nothing more.

He let his head fall back against the couch, closing his eyes. Sleep sounded wonderful right now, but sleeping somewhere unfamiliar made him anxious, and he fought the sensation of weariness as long as he could. Eventually all paranoid thoughts of self preservation flew away as sleep clawed at his weary mind, pulling him down into the deep, numbing darkness of a dreamless sleep.


	6. Chapter 6

Hankyung strolled through the second floor, grabbing a clean shirt off one of the rails. He pulled his soiled shirt over his head, trying to figure out how and where to find the strange man he'd woken up with. He needed to inform him of the new additions downstairs. It could prove tiresome and time consuming if Heechul found them on his own – just in case he mistook them to be not-so-alive and decided to made sure they stayed that way. Hankyung didn't know what to expect.

He was distracted from his thoughts by something hard and noisy hitting his chest, looking down to find a big mess of Heechul falling flat on his backside. If looks could kill Hankyung would be cremated already.

'Look where you're going!' Heechul spat, big eyes looking as though they were about to shoot lasers.

'I could say the same to you.' Hankyung chuckled, offering a hand, Heechul taking it grudgingly; not forgetting to add a hefty sigh of indignation.

'Put your shirt on.' Heechul grumbled walking past Hankyung, stopping only when he noticed the Chinese man wasn't following. 'Come on.'

Hankyung stopped with his shirt halfway over his face, his voice muffled by the material. 'What?'

Heechul turned, raising his eyebrows. 'Come on!'

'Why?'

'Is there a way to get to the parking lot without going outside?'

'Why?'

'Don't ask a question before answering mine!' he snapped, walking closer to Hankyung before grabbing his wrist and tugging him along.

'Well, there's the warehouse, but I haven't been down there recently so I don't know if there's anything lurking in there.' 

Heechul let go of his wrist when Hankyung started walking in step beside him, taking a moment to trail his eyes over the man's new form-fitting attire in silent appraisal before once again turning his attention to his face, which was looking a little bit uncomfortable at Heechul's scrutinizing gaze. 'Take me there, then. I need to let someone in.'

Hankyung didn't bother to ask any more questions, simply steering Heechul towards the elevator and pressing the button to the ground floor, feeling the familiar lurch in his stomach as it started to drop down the shaft. 

'Tell me about yourself.' Heechul demanded suddenly. Hankyung turned to look at him, jumping back a little when he noticed just how close they were in the small elevator.

'Well, I don't kno-' 

'I'm twenty-one, born on the tenth of July. I'm a Cancer and I like cats.' Heechul cut in; eyes bright and wide. How forward can one person be?

'Well that's... really interesting.' Hankyung sighed, turning his attention back to the numbers slowly counting down to naught. Too slowly. 'Oh, by the way, you'll see two people downstairs, don't freak out, I let them in.' He'd completely forgotten about the two new additions on the settee downstairs. He'd been curious as to what the smaller boys condition was – mostly wanting to make sure he wasn't bitten or scratched, but his companion seemed the testy type, and Hankyung wasn't the type to impose on another person’s privacy. At least not until it became his problem.

'Why did you let them in?' 

'Well, I saw them from the roof and I wasn't going to leave them out there to die...' Hankyung chuckled without humour; why else would he let them in?

The lift pinged as the doors slid open, the two walking out and turning to look at the two sleeping figures on one of the couches.

'They could be serial killers or something.' Heechul waved a hand towards them, not bothering to lower his voice.

'Well, so could you. So could I.' Hankyung joked, leaning towards Heechul's face and smirking.

'If you were a serial killer I'd probably have woken up in some sort of sick bondage get-up covered in treacle or something fucked up like that.' Heechul span on his heel and headed towards a large door labelled 'staff only'. 'And if you are a serial killer I really hope I didn't give you any ideas.'

They walked through the door, Hankyung behind Heechul, finding it pitch black. The large room was barely illuminated by the small amount of light spilling in through tiny windows cut high into the walls at the far end of the room.

As soon as the door closed Hankyung felt Heechul latch onto his arm.

'Scared of the dark?' 

'Fuck you.' 

Hankyung flicked a switch to his left, ignoring the small pang of disappointment he felt when Heechul let go. The room was large and cool, filled with crates and building equipment towering up to the high ceiling. He walked to the far end of the room, climbing the ladder propped next to the large, wide blue delivery door.

'Are any of those things out there?' he heard Heechul shout up as he glanced out of one of the small windows. It was raining heavily, droplets pounding aggressively against the thick glass and making it hard to see. He opened the window, cringing as the cold air stung his face and made his hairs stand to attention. He could see nothing but a few empty cars and lorries outside, not a single walking dead in sight.

'None, remind me why we're here?' he called back, stepping back down the ladder. By the time he got to the bottom, there still wasn't any reply and, looking around, Heechul was nowhere to be seen. 'Hee-'

'What?' he felt hot breath against his neck and span around, finding Heechul uncomfortably close, that obnoxious smirk plastered on his face.

'I told you not to creep up on people.' he grumbled, slightly flustered as he walked towards the control panel, pushing a large, red button and waiting for the shutters to rise.

Heechul sauntered over, resting his elbow on a step of the ladder and watching the shutters as they creaked and clanked. 

'My friend should be driving up soon.' he said, answering Hankyung's previous question. 'I recommend you move out of the way. He doesn't know how to steer.' He groaned, rubbing his bare arms as the chill licked at his creamy skin, rain dotting the concrete as the shutters finally clinked to a stop. 'But while we wait, you never told me about yourself.' Heechul smiled, turning back to the Chinese man.

'Well, you didn't really give me a chance.' Hankyung huffed half-heartedly, walking over to Heechul and sitting on the bottom step of the ladder. He let his elbows rest on his knees as he looked up at the feminine man.

'I was just giving you an example.' Heechul sneered. 'Fuck, its freezing.'

'You should have worn warmer clothes, then.' Hankyung smiled, he wasn't really complaining. Heechul was extremely easy on the eyes. It looked like he'd taken the opportunity to grab some fresh clothes from the clothing department, kitted out in too-tight jeans and a grey, long sleeved shirt. 'I'm twenty-one; I was born on the 9th of February, though, so I'm guessing you were born the year before me.'

'I thought you were older than that.' Heechul said, walking further into the warehouse away from the shutters to get a little warmer. 'Why are you in Korea? You're Chinese, right?'

'I came to study; I was hoping to become a translator or something. It pays well and stuff, but I couldn't afford to stay at college after my mother got ill. I started working full time here so I could send her money for medicine. She only has my sister to look after her now that my father's dead.' He sighed.

'Your mother's still in China?' 

'Yes.'

'But didn't China get ov-'

'I know,' he cut in, 'I know.' He looked away from Heechul, gazing distractedly into to the parking lot. He knew there was very little chance his mother was still alive. He had a strong feeling that by 'quarantine' they'd meant 'mass-murder.' That was just how it worked, there was no way they could control an outbreak like this in such an over-populated place.

Hankyung didn't want to think about it, though. If he didn't think about it, he could pretend she was fine. Snug and warm with his sister, watching awful dramas on their out-of-date television and looking after his dog while he worked his ass off to keep things that way. 

'I'm sorry.' he heard Heechul mumble. He looked up, seeing an almost painful expression on the other man's pretty face.

'It's fine,' he smiled, 'I just don't want to think about it.' 

'Ah, here's Jungsu...' Heechul piped up, looking as if the previous conversation hadn't happened. Hankyung heard the rumbling of an engine not long after. He stood up and watched as the car came speeding into the parking lot. Heechul wasn't joking when he said his friend couldn't steer. A small, off-white Ford Pinto came wheeling round the corner into the parking lot, the engine banging and smoking as it went. It screeched as it braked, slowly rolling into the warehouse before the engine was shut off, a man around the same age as Heechul stepping out of the car. He was funny-looking, almost pretty if it wasn't for his nose. He looked like he belonged in a cheesy 90's boyband or something with his baggy clothes and crappy haircut. He couldn't help but smirk at the contrast between this guy and Heechul.

'How did you get here without killing yourself?' Heechul laughed; a laugh Hankyung hadn't heard before. It was soft and natural, one Heechul seemed to reserve for people he was comfortable with. Hankyung liked it. He watched Heechul run over to his friend, pulling him into a tight hug before quickly pushing him away. 'You smell like three days worth of vomit, what the hell...' he cringed, backing away.

'Youngwoon had a few too many when the college went crazy, I've been driving with my feet in a puddle of sick. Who's this?' Heechul’s friend beamed, dimples flashing as he turned his gaze to Hankyung. He walked over, offering a hand. Hankyung shook it firmly.

'Hankyung.' He replied simply, returning the smile.

'I'm Jungsu, and the corpse in the passenger seat is Youngwoon.' he pointed over his shoulder to the car. 'Are you and Heechul friend? I've seen you before, I think, on campus.'

'No, I attended the same college as you both, I met Heechul by-' he paused, sparing a glance at the man next to him. He smirked. '-chance.'

'Oh, okay.' Jungsu walked back to the car, opening the passenger side and pulling something out. A leg. Another leg. Slowly and with a great struggle, Jungsu pulled out a man, strong in stature and obviously heavy, if the way Jungsu was groaning was any indication.

'Why did you bring him?' Heechul sneered, walking over to Jungsu. He pushed him away, instead kicking the man now lying on the floor, a sinister grin spreading across his face when the man groaned and stirred, blinking blearily.

'Heechul?' he raised himself on his elbows, 'Jungsu, where are we? Why is he here?' Heechul delivered another kick to his side, leaning over him. Hankyung almost laughed out loud at the expression on the man's face. He looked terrified.

‘Stop kicking me, asshole.’ Youngwoon growled, clutching his stomach and trying to return Heechul’s glare.

‘Seriously, Jungsu! Why would you bring this fat piece of shit along?’ Heechul spat, still shooting daggers at Youngwoon, ‘Surely he’d be better off with his pack of shitheads.’  
There was no response from Jungsu.

‘Jungsu!’ Heechul pulled his gaze away from Youngwoon, looking towards where Jungsu was standing only seconds before. ‘Jungsu?’

‘Look down.’ Hankyung mumbled.

‘Shit.’ Heechul groaned; throwing his arms up in exasperation when he saw his friend sprawled out on the floor. ‘Hankyung, do something.’

Hankyung walked over to the thin body lying on the concrete and threw him over his shoulder, walking back out of the warehouse and into the warm, dim space of the showrooms, leaving Heechul and Youngwoon alone.

'He hasn't slept in three days.' Youngwoon said. He was still nursing his stomach, sitting cross-legged against the car door. 'I got car sick five times, I thought I was having a nightmare when I woke up and saw him holding the wheel.' he grumbled, grimacing at the memory.

'Why didn't you drive, then?' Heechul growled, pointing an accusing finger in the stout man's direction and shaking it aggressively.

'I cut my feet looking for Jungsu, I can't walk, never mind pressing the pedals.'

Heechul let out a loud, ungraceful snort.

'Screw you, Heech-' he hit the ground with a thud, the previously open car door he was leaning against being slammed shut.

'Don't disrespect your elders.' Heechul crouched in front of Youngwoon intimidatingly, smirking and lacing his fingers together in his lap. 'I'm gonna make you wish you stayed at college, tubby – and if you even lay a finger on Jungsu I'll snap your neck clean off.'

‘Just shut up and help me up.’ Youngwoon hissed indignantly, looking for all the world like he’d rather be outside.

‘I’d rather let you rot.’ Heechul sighed, and Youngwoon could only watch as the skinny boy turned and walked straight out of the warehouse.

He let out a hopeless whine when the door slammed shut, the warehouse feeling all the more chilly – not to mention the shutters were still open. He felt like a piece of meat.

He crossed his legs, putting his foot on his knee; there were deep, gruesome looking abrasions all along the sole of his foot, tiny shards of glass piercing the flesh. It stung, and he wasn’t even going to consider pulling the glass out.

He stretched his legs before him, lying back down on the cool concrete. It was dusty and dirty, but it felt nice. He was still feeling slightly hung-over, and Jungsu’s driving had given him the worst car-sickness he’d ever experienced. Heechul didn’t help, either.

He didn’t know why the older boy hated him so much, but the feeling was mutual anyway. The bitch – as Youngwoon liked to call him – was always glued to Jungsu’s hip, ever since high school. They’d never really spoken to each other, but whenever they’d see each other in hallways or in classes, Heechul’s glares spoke a thousand words.

He guessed he could understand; many a time he’d woken up, hung-over and dizzy only to roll over and find Jungsu there. He’d always be awake, eyes glazing every now and then as he tried to stay conscious. He’d ask him why he was there, why he was in Jungsu’s room; but obviously the older boy had been looking after him. 

He never returned the favour. He’d never hurt Jungsu intentionally, but he couldn’t control himself when he was drunk. His emotions would rage out of control and he’d break anything in sight – and Jungsu was usually the closest, easiest thing to break.

He felt sick every time Jungsu’s sleeve would lift up, when he’d see those blue-purple bruises on his wrists. Thumb marks embedded in his skin from where he’d been too rough the night before. He felt sick. Sick with himself.

So sick he couldn’t even bring himself to apologise, wishing rather to pretend it never happened, to pretend he couldn’t remember. He never got so drunk he lost his memory – he’d always have it playing through his head the night after; images of Jungsu’s face, looking so upset that it hurt.

Youngwoon looked up at the high ceiling of the warehouse, listening to the rain as it thudded against the tin roof. 

He wouldn’t have saved himself if he were in Jungsu’s shoes. He’d have left him there to rot. He deserved to rot, just as Heechul said.

The thought felt sour in his head. He’d never agree with that piece of filth. He didn’t understand why Jungsu was friends with that pile of bones; he was sour-mouthed and only cared about himself. He poisoned Jungsu with his disturbing personality, his girlishness. Men should be men, manly and such. They should sleep with women, get drunk, and have fun with their youth before settling down with a wife and children.

They shouldn’t be like Heechul. Sleeping with every guy he felt like; Youngwoon felt sick just being near him. People like Heechul had no place in the world. He didn’t want Jungsu to be like Heechul. Jungsu was pure, angelic in his eyes.

But most of all, Jungsu was his. His to batter and bruise, to laugh with, to irritate, to possess and maybe, just maybe, Youngwoon wished he'd been the one who'd saved Jungsu.

\-------------

Jungsu heard muffled voices as he drifted in and out of consciousness, feeling a little disoriented. He heard footsteps getting closer to him, and he could tell there was someone standing near.

‘Is he okay?’ 

‘Ye-‘

‘Does he need medicine?’

‘Heechul he’s-‘

‘What if he doesn’t wake up?’

‘Heechul, shut up.’ Jungsu croaked, ‘I’m trying to sleep.’ 

‘Sorry for worrying, jeez.’ Heechul huffed, moving Jungsu’s legs from where they were stretched out on the sofa and sitting down, placing them back onto his lap. Jungsu nuzzled back into the cushion he was lying on, he felt like lead, the sleepless nights catching up with him. Heechul wouldn’t stop talking, either, as usual. 

Years of being with the other man gave him a skill most would kill for – simply ignoring him. He felt himself drift off again, feeling a little bit sorry for the Chinese boy – Hankyung was it? – Who’d have to put up with Heechul while he was asleep.

\----

‘What happened to the other guy? You didn’t leave him in there, did you?’ Hankyung asked, standing up and crossing his arms like a parent scolding his child.

‘Maybe.’ 

Hankyung groaned quietly, sprinting back to the warehouse. ‘Leave him, he deserves to suffer.’ Heechul grumbled from behind.

‘Well, I have no reason to leave him there, and I’m not going to leave those shutters open, either. With the noise that car made on its way in, those things outside will catch on soon enough.’ 

He found Youngwoon lying on his back, face tensed up as if deep in thought. He jumped when he realised Hankyung was standing there before he sat up and looked at him warily. The Chinese man walked straight past him and closed the shutters before walking back.

Youngwoon half expected him to keep on walking, and tensed a little when he stopped in front of him, crouching down to eye-level. 'You said you hurt your feet?' the stranger smiled, he had an accent and his face looked foreign, Youngwoon noticed. 'Are you okay?' Youngwoon blinked and nodded, stuttering.  
'Sorry, I stood on some glass...' he winced as he felt the foreigner touch his left foot, giving him a look of apology when he saw his reaction, 'I think it's infected. Who are you again?' he asked, feeling a little guilty at how rude he must have sounded. The foreigner just smiled at him, though. Youngwoon noticed he was holding something in his free hand, a small first aid kit.

'I used to work here. My name is Hankyung.' he moved Youngwoons foot to a better position on his knee, opening the green box with a click and taking out a small pair of tweezers. Youngwoon clenched his teeth in preparation.

'How long have you been here with Heechul?' Youngwoon asked, eyes trained on the ceiling to distract him from whatever Hankyung was going to do to his foot.

'Just a day. You two don't seem to like each other, why is that?'

Youngwoon chuckled, 'I think it would be more accurate to say we hate each others guts.' he gasped when he felt a shard of glass ripped from his foot, balling his fists and breathing in slow, steady breaths. 'I wouldn't want to be friends with Heechul's type anyway. How did you survive a whole day with him?' another jolt of hot, searing pain ran across his nerves, 'I'll take a wild guess that he's tried it on with you already.'

'Well, I'm not going to judge someone I've only known one day, I think he's rather nice. A little abrupt, maybe, but he means well.' the foreigner replied, eyes trained on the task at hand. He'd never done first aid before, and was surprised it was going so well. He didn't tell Youngwoon that, of course. Youngwoon laughed mirthlessly, shaking his head a little.

'You shouldn't trust him.' 

'Who said I do?'

'He does that to people. That's why Jungsu stays with him. He tricks them into liking him, and then he throws himself at you.' his face scrunched up, as if sucking a lemon, 'it's sick.'

'You sound jealous.' Hankyung teased, setting the tweezers aside and taking a bandage from the small first aid kit.

'Of Heechul?' he looked back at the foreigner, seeing him nod as he gently wrapped the thin, stretchy fabric around his foot. 'Why would I be jealous of him?'

'It seems like Jungsu pays more attention to him than you.'

'That's because Heechul keeps him away from me,' he could feel his anger rising, why was he telling all this to a stranger? He remembered quickly when he felt a sharp pain shoot through his other foot, throwing his head back again and gritting his teeth.

'And why does he do that?'

'That's none of your business, what are you, a therapist?' he growled, 'Anyway, you should stay away from Heechul, his type are like a plague.'

'Type?' Hankyung inquired, taking out another bandage.

'Faggots, gays, homo's, you know.' Youngwoon winced when he felt the bandage tighten more than necessary, Hankyung standing abruptly, pulling Youngwoon roughly to his feet. 'What're you doing, fuck!' he hissed, the pressure of the hard floor against his feet setting his nerves alight.

Hankyung pulled Youngwoon's arm around his neck, letting him rest some of his weight on his shoulder as he walked them out into the department store. His face had gone from calm and friendly to cold and tense in the blink of an eye, his grip tight on Youngwoon's arm.

'I can see why Heechul doesn't like you. If you're going to be staying here, I'd request you change that attitude of yours. There's no place for people like you here – and I only have enough tolerance to let you stay here till your feet are healed. Say things like that again and I'll throw you right back out.' He pushed Youngwoon down onto a bench, away from where the rest of the group were. 'Half the time homophobia is just a sign of deep-rooted denial.' and Youngwoon could only sit, his mouth wide in astonishment. 

He hadn't the time to think of a snappy retort before the man was gone, leaving him to seethe and brood over how he'd just been treated.

Obviously, Heechul had worked his poison on Hankyung, too.

Obviously.

\--

Sungmin felt warm, much warmer than he'd felt in a while, and shifting a little he felt the friction of a blanket wrapped tightly around himself. He groaned, clamping his eyes shut against the bright lights and pushing his head back into the soft cushion he was lying on. He didn't feel as sick any more, and his migraine had calmed down, he only felt hungry. Extremely hungry.

'Kyuhyun...' he mumbled, knowing the boy was next to him. He sat up a little when he didn't get a reply, smiling when his eyes focused and revealed the lanky teen with his head tilted back against the headrest of the couch, drool rolling down his chin and a quiet gargling sound coming from his throat.

He didn't know whether it was adorable or disgusting. 

He reached out and wiped the line of spit away with the edge of his blanket, gently as to not disturb his sleep; he knew he needed it. Kyuhyun had been carrying him the whole time, only letting him down when he threatened to vomit down his back – and even then he wouldn't let him walk without support. 

He'd never seen the other boy care so much; in fact, Sungmin usually found him to be quite ignorant at times. It was almost as if he were in his own world, completely detached from other people. They talked sometimes, when neither of them could sleep and when Kyuhyun got tired of playing that silly game on his laptop, and Sungmin found he was nice - Smarmy, but nice. He was also extremely intelligent, excelling in maths and science – he'd never help Sungmin with his assignments, though. 

Like when he’d asked Kyuhyun to help him with his maths assignment, he’d told him to do it himself and ignored him the rest of the night. He'd found neat, concise little revision notes under his pillow when he woke up, and when he'd looked, he'd found Kyuhyun passed out on the floor covered in paper and pink highlighter. He didn’t tell him he knew about it – the boy had too much pride – but he didn’t forget to give him a peck on the cheek before he left. It was no secret that he liked Kyuhyun, somewhere between his indifference and snarky attitude, he’d found someone he thought was endlessly interesting. Sungmin had a soft spot for intelligence.

He could hear voices behind him and sat up weakly to look over the back of the sofa. He saw three men, one looking somewhat comatose curled up on the sofa and the other two apparently deep in conversation. Kyuhyun hadn’t told him there would be other people here, in fact; where was... here?

‘Excuse me?’ he chirped, sitting up properly and resting his forearms on the back of the couch. The men didn’t notice him at first, facing in the opposite direction, so he called again a little louder, wincing when the words scratched at his sore throat. He recognised them instantly when they turned towards him. The taller boys name escaped him, but he’d seen him around campus – and everyone knew Kim Heechul. The figure on the couch shifted a bit, and Sungmin recognised him as the guy next door, Park Jungsu.

‘Oh,’ the taller boy exclaimed, ‘I almost forgot about you two. Are you hungry?’

‘Are you gonna make more rice?’ Heechul jumped up, clutching his arm like a starving man.

‘I don’t think it has the correct nutritional values for someone who is obviously malnourished and suffering from-‘

‘Don’t talk like that, you sound dull.’

‘I’ll just find something to eat…’ Sungmin mumbled, the two not even acknowledging him as he skulked off in search of food. 

And that’s how Sungmin found himself in the food aisle, vomiting the world and all of its wonders into a freezer full of peas.

\--

‘I’ve never seen so much vomit.’

‘I’ve never seen so many peas.’

It had been two hours since they’d realised just how long the smaller stranger from earlier had been gone, finding him lying in a pool of his own stomach content, resulting in Heechul spilling his own at the sight. Hankyung decided to name it mass regurgitation, and thanked the Gods he had a stomach of steel.

He'd tried to carry the boy upstairs and clean him up, only to be met with his companion - his extremely angry companion. He'd practically snatched the boy out of Hankyung's arms and walked away, not forgetting to throw one last glare over his shoulder before getting into the elevator Hankyung was headed towards. He seemed really friendly.

Heechul, quite obviously, made a huge drama out of the incident and demanded he get started on fixing up a shower like he'd promised that morning.

'I stink' whined Heechul, punching Hankyung hard in the shoulder when the latter nodded at his observation. He'd changed his clothes but the smell still clung to him. 'Where are we going, anyway? Why is it so dark?'

'Scared?' another punch and a look to kill told Hankyung not to push it, 'We're going to the basement' he replied, 'the building has a propane system, I have to turn it on.'

'Propane system?'

'Hot water.'

'Oh.' they walked a few more paces, the stairwell growing darker as they went, before Heechul's head snapped up again, 'Why didn't you turn it on this morning?'

'I forgot.'  
'Bullshit, that tap water was fucking freezing, I could've caught hypothermia or someth-'

'Watch your step.'

'It's fine saying that after I've fallen.' Heechul spat, patting himself off, but still keeping his pace matched with Hankyung's, the latter only smiling at the obviously disgruntled man beside him, chuckling under his breath when they walked further into the darkness and he felt Heechul's hand find his and grip it tightly. 'Didn't you bring a flash-light or something?'

'Keep your voice down, I don't know what's down here.' He pulled a small torch from his belt, flicking a button on the side and squinting as the bright light strained his eyes, barely illuminating five feet in front of them. 

They were in a large, damp room; boilers lined up along the far right hand wall and hardware tools stacked high on racks throughout the wide space. Hankyung didn't tell Heechul he'd never actually seen the propane system before, and that he actually had no idea where he was going to find it.

'Hankyung' Heechul whispered, gripping his hand a little tighter all of a sudden.

'What?'

'Can you hear that?' their voices echoed in the room, a thick silence dragging out as Hankyung listened, only hearing the rhythmic drip-dropping of the boilers and a slow shuffling far to his left.

A shuffling.

'Shit,' he span, pulling Heechul close as he shone his small torch quickly from side to side, eyes searching wildly for anything unusual, lurking in the darkness. There were too many racks and shelves around them, obscuring his view and making him panic a little.

'Hankyung, the fuck is going on?' Heechul hissed into his ear, 'You said you'd secured the building.'

'I forgot about the basement. he returned the tight grip on Heechul's hand, eyes still scrutinising the room for any slight movement, straining in the dim light, 'Stay close, we're going back up.'

'Well, I'm not exactly going to wander off now, am I?' Heechul muttered under his breath, fisting his other hand in the back of Hankyung's shirt as they slowly retreated back up the steps, Hankyung not once peeling his gaze from the darkness, walking backwards with Heechul tugging at his hand as they went.


	7. Chapter 7

Shindong ran his muddy fingers through his knotted, greasy hair, grumbling when they got tangled in the mess of dirt and dry blood, flaking off onto his off-white shirt. He was safe, for now.

He'd been travelling with Jongwoon and Ryeowook. They'd hot-wired a van left in the college parking lot – Ryeowook was more rebellious than he looked – and they'd drove as far away as they could, taking shifts to sleep.

The roads were terrible; for the first day it was bumper to bumper traffic, police barriers on every corner and army Jeeps patrolling every street, ushering people out of their houses with guns. Shindong only saw actual shootings a two or three times, and that was two or three times too many. Buildings were burning, fires spreading through the side streets and looking somewhat like the aftermath of an earthquake.

The second day, Shindong had been sleeping in the back of the van when he heard raised voices from outside. Ryeowook had gotten out to check the petrol station for some gas, finding it bone dry and full of crazed civilians, searching for the same thing they were, and not being able to accept what they found – or the lack thereof.. 

The van shook a little as Ryeowook slid back into the passenger seat, red-faced and out of breath. 'Drive!' he panted, slamming the door behind him. Jongwoon sped off without question.

When they'd gotten a good distance from the garage, Ryeowook told them why he'd been in such a rush.

Apparently people weren't going crazy because of the gas. Someone in the crowd had collapsed, bleeding out from a wound in their stomach – as if a large chunk had been simply ripped out. People had seen the mess and gone ape-shit crazy, not knowing what to do, especially when someone checked the body, and couldn't find a pulse.

Ryeowook had been watching from behind a petrol pump, not wanting to be caught up in the panic, when he'd seen it move. The person was definitely dead, they were a sickly, pale yellow colour and their eyes were glased over, unblinking. But Ryeowook saw it twitch with his own eyes. He saw the pigment fade from it's glassy eyes, turning an off-white colour, opening wide all of a sudden as its limbs spasmed, its jaw clenching and falling slack in a slow rhythm. 

He watched it get to its feet, people too panicked to notice, still in shock of seeing someone die right before their eyes. They didn't notice as the dead body stood on its own two legs, too distracted to realise it was coming towards them until they felt cold, clammy hands clutching at their shoulders, blunt teeth sinking into the soft flesh of their throat.

And that was when Ryeowook ran, heading straight back to the van, hearing the screams and shouts behind him as people saw what was happening. Ryeowook had seen enough.

They'd been more alert than ever that night. They'd ran out of gas, every petrol station either bone dry or destroyed. The streets grew a lot quieter as the sun set that night, Shindong noticed, and it was unnerving to say the least.

They'd found a small farmhouse out in a field, not far from where the van had broken down, completely deserted save for a few chickens. Shindong had first watch , Ryeowook and Jongwoon following his shift. He was so tired that when Ryeowook told him to sleep, he didn't even spare a thought as to why Jongwoon was still awake, or why the shorter boy looked ready to leave. He just collapsed onto one of the beds in the house and fell into a deep, sound sleep.

He'd woken up to the clucking of the chickens outside and the pale February sun shining through the open window onto his face.

Jongwoon and Ryeowook were nowhere to be seen.

At first he'd panicked, running blindly around the small shack, until he found a scruffy, hastily written note on the kitchen table.

'Sorry, Shindong. We had to leave. I wish I could say this in a nicer way, but you eat far too much. We've only been with you two days and we've had to stop six times for you to buy snacks! We can't do this, especially when the shops are all empty and those things are outside. Jongwoon wants to find Siwon, and I need to find my family. It's not like we were close, right? Good look finding Sungmin, who knows, maybe you'll lose some weight on the way! I hope you were watching when I hot-wired that car, it'll come in useful. We're not cruel, we found a bike for you in the shed out back last night when you were sleeping, and we found some petrol for the van, too. You're a heavy sleeper, hyung! We should be pretty far away by the time you read this, so don't follow us. Watch yourself out there.

Ryeowook~'

He'd cried, of course. With his body he was like a five-course meal for those things outside, and even if he was athletic he had a crippling asthma.

But somehow he'd managed it, and he'd got pretty far before his stomach begged to be fed, stopping off outside a convenience store. He hadn't expected there to be people inside, and he certainly hadn't expected them to try and bite him. Thankfully he was quite agile, sharp reflexes surfacing as he turned and slid over the counter, dodging the hands flailing blindly at him, and running back out into the street.

Apparently every freak for at least four blocks heard his little scuffle, filing out of alleyways and the surrounding houses, coming at Shindong in a wide arc; shuffling, groaning.

Someone had stolen his bike.

The thought of being a five-course meal flashed through his mind again, and he ran blindly through the crowd, adrenaline pulsing through his veins. He shrugged off the cold, bony, mauled hands grasping at him as he went.

He managed to run a few blocks away before his asthma kicked in and he had to make for the nearest house, and that's where he found himself right then. Thankfully he'd found it to be empty, and he'd managed to get his breathing back to normal. The house still had running water and electricity – thankfully the grid hadn't been switched off yet, and there was food left in the cupboards. Whoever had been here before must've left in a hurry.

He let out a sigh, relaxing into the settee he was seated in. He was tired, extremely tired. He'd only been awake for a few hours, but he already felt the need to sleep again. He was out like a light, not even thinking about boarding up the windows or barricading the door.

He just sat there, unconscious, like a free meal.

 

\-----------

 

Jongwoon gripped the wheel tighter. They were a few miles away from the farmhouse now, the sun high and pale in the sky warming the early February afternoon.

'Ryeowook, we should go back.'

'No.'

'Ryeowook-'

'He'll be fine.'

'But what if he doesn't know how to ride a bike? I've never seen him on one, he's a sitting duck!'

'Stop worrying, you want to find Siwon right? Then keep driving.' Jongwoon sighed, returning his attention to the road. He'd never been in a situation like this before, and he was stressed. Siwon lived quite far away from college, studying at home instead, and no matter how many times Jongwoon called, he wouldn't answer. He lived with his parents, and Jongwoon could only pray he was okay.

'Ryeowook.' He spoke suddenly, breaking the quiet that had filled the van.

'Hm?'

'Why are you coming with me? I thought your parents were on holiday in Hawaii?' Ryeowook fidgeted in his seat, looking down at his hands with his hair falling around his face, 'And I know you don't like Siwon.'

'I just wanted to, okay?' He still didn't look up.

'But Wook-' the smaller boys head snapped up, fixing Jongwoon with a glare unfitting to such an innocent face.

'Leave it.'

The rest of the journey passed by in a tense silence, and Jongwoon didn't fail to notice how the smaller boy tensed more and more as they got closer to Siwons' house.

As they pulled into the driveway, Jongwoon couldn't help but feel a little reassured. On the drive through the area, it had been eerily silent, not a soul to be seen. No cars park outside, no lights on in the houses. It was the same for Siwon's house. Maybe they'd been evacuated?

He stopped the van and got out, but stopped, holding the door mid-close when he saw Ryeowook wasn't making any sign of movement.

'Wook?'

'I'll wait here.' he mumbled, he hadn't looked up from the dashboard for almost half an hour.

'Wook, please.' Jongwoon sighed. The smaller boy twitched and fumbled with his hands, fidgeting awkwardly in his seat. His brows were furrowed and after what Jongwoon guessed to be an intense mental debate, he unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the van, walking to Jongwoons side.

'Only because something bad might happen.' he huffed.

'You talk as if I can't defend myself,' he laughed quietly, walking quickly up the patio steps. Siwon lived in a nice, safe area, so his family always left the door unlocked; but upon tweaking the handle to the large mahogany doors, it didn't budge. 'Something... something's wrong.'

'Why?'

'They never lock the door, we need to find another way to get in...' he turned towards Ryeowook, seeing a small pebble in his hand. Before he could ask what he was going to do with it the boy reared up, launching it through the living room window, glass flying everywhere with an almighty crash. 'I guess that's one way to go about it.'

Ryeowook hopped through the window nimbly, and Jongwoon couldn't help but wonder if he'd done it before, because it was harder than it looked. His foot got caught on the window frame and he flew face-first into the coffee table. If anything was in that house, they certainly knew they were there.

'I smell gas.' Ryeowook whispered, pulling Jongwoon to his feet. 'Breathe into your shirt.' he walked out of the room, his jacket collar pulled over his nose and mouth. He came walking back in a few seconds later when he saw that Jongwoon wasn't following. 'Come on, for Gods sake.' he grumbled, rolling his eyes.

Following the smaller boy into the hallway he thought of how Ryeowook was acting. It was a far cry from how the younger boy usually acted towards him, Jongwoon hadn't seen him like this before. He was usually cheery and polite, always sweet, even when he was hanging around with his no-good friends.

He didn't have time to ask him what was wrong, though. He'd been dawdling in the hallway, lost in thought as usual when he saw who he was looking for emerge from the dining room.

'Siwon?'

He had bruises all down the left side of his handsome face and his eyes were a pale white, jaw grinding as he inched closer to Jongwoon. 

'Siwon, you're bleeding...'

–

'Hyung?' Ryeowook called from the kitchen, realising he'd lost him again. He could hear him in the hallway talking to someone, and grabbing the nearest thing to hand he quietly opened the kitchen door. He saw Jongwoon on the floor, petrified. Siwon was standing over him. 

Ryeowook didn't even have to think.

–

'Shit. Shit, shit, shit.' he murmured, crawling over to his boyfriends limp body. He'd never seen so much blood. Ryeowook stood over the dead body, panting from the adrenaline rush, the ashtray in his hand still dripping blood onto the beige carpet. 'Ryeowook? What the fuck!'

'That wasn't Siwon!' He was shaking, 'He was going to hurt you.'

'No. No, you've had it in for him all along, stop making excuses!' Jongwoon shouted, getting to his feet and pushing Ryeowook against the wall roughly.

'Jongwo-'

'Shut up! Shut up!'

'He was already dead, Jongwoon.' Ryeowook didn't flinch when Jongwoon struck him across the face, the sound seeming to resound through the empty house. 'Face it.' he hissed through clenched teeth, staring straight into Jongwoon's eyes.

'You're lying, I've seen the way you look at him.' Jongwoon was hysteric. His hands shaking and his knuckles were turning white from the death grip he had on Ryeowook's collar. 'You're jealous of him.' he cried, tears dripping onto the carpet as he shook. Ryeowook was silent.

The only sound in the narrow hallway was the sharp, strained gasps from Jongwoon as he sobbed, followed by the dull thud of the ashtray falling from Ryeowooks limp hand, rolling along the floor till it thudded against the kitchen door.

'Ryeowook?' Jongwoon looked back up at the boy he was holding against the wall. He was pale, eyes closed and body limp in his hands. He was confused for a moment, before he felt a wooziness wash over him, remembering Ryeowook' s earlier words of warning. 'Shit, the gas. Shit.'  
He panicked, letting Ryeowook's torso fall over his shoulder hoisting him up and running back through the living room. He scrambled of the broken window, rushing for the van. He sat Ryeowook in the passenger seat, buckling him up before getting in himself.

He squinted as he twisted the key in the engine, a line of blood dripping into his eye from the large scratch on his forehead. It hurt more than it should, and he could feel it going numb. He pulled out of the driveway, trying not to think of his boyfriends body lying there in the hallway, head caved in and his cold, lifeless hands still clutching the rosary beads he wore around his neck.

He tried to forget that the murderer sat only a few inches away from him, unconscious and struggling with the gas in his lungs.

But the further he drove, the more he forgot. He forgot it all as the cut on his forehead turned purple, the skin surrounding it growing numb and turning a sickly yellow. His eyes began to lose focus on the road before him and his hands slowly lost their grip on the wheel. He forgot it all as the van plunged into the large lake at the end of the road, washing the air from his lungs and stealing the youth from his companion.

It was all forgotten in the depths of the stagnant water as Jongwoon's body rose to the roof of the van, Ryeowook still tied down by his seatbelt.

And if Ryeowook could have chosen his death, he wouldn't have had it any other way. To die with Jongwoon was all he could wish for, even if it was years before its time. Even if his love would forever be unrequited.


	8. Chapter 8

-  
'Kyuhyun, I'm going to be sick again,' Sungmin grumbled, watching the laminate sky blur before his eyes from his up-side down position on Kyuhyun's shoulder.

'Wait a second, we're almost at the toilets.'

'Your shoulder's digging into my gut, though.' He fidgeted a little to get more comfortable, only making the sensation worse.

They went through a door, and Kyuhyun leaned down a little to gently slip Sungmin off his shoulder, barely catching the boy when he wobbled on his feet.

'It's only a few steps.' He said, flicking a switch to his left, illuminating the space. 

It was a large room, the floor and walls covered in white tiles. There were toilet stalls on both sides of the room, a long line of sinks down the middle.

It was just a huge blur of white light to Sungmin, spinning and spiralling. Kyuhyun let go of him, and suddenly all he could feel was the coolness of the bathroom tiles against his cheek; the world turning on its side. 'Christ, Sungmin,' Kyuhyun groaned, rushing back over and hastily pulling him over to a toilet cubicle just in time.  
Kyuhyun had never felt so guilty, he knew it was his fault Sungmin was so frail right then, too sick to even stand straight. If he hadn't have left their room that night, if he'd woken Sungmin up, then maybe things would have been different.

Sungmin looked fragile. Breakable, even. Kyuhyun hated it.

He rubbed gentle circles into the smaller boys back, holding his sweat-soaked strands of hair away from his face. He'd never had to do something like this before, and he felt uncomfortable and awkward, especially as he and Sungmin weren't even that close. He couldn't remember ever touching the older boy so casually – in fact, he couldn't remember ever touching the boy at all. He was drawn away from his thoughts when he realised Sungmin was trying to speak, gasping his name between heaves.

'Don't speak,' he chided, a little sharply, 'You have a head injury, not a virus. Try your best to resist vomiting as much as you can, you haven't eaten much, hardly anything at all, so you need to retain as much nutrition as possible.'

Sungmin was too busy trying to breathe to hear anything Kyuhyun was blabbing on about. He rested his head on the cool porcelain, not caring about hygiene, and tried to think of anything but vomit.

'Kyuhyun,' he whispered. His throat was raw and his mouth was dry – he'd kill for a toothbrush.

'What?' Kyuhyun leaned back on his heels as Sungmin sat up shakily, flushing the toilet and turning towards him.

'I think a shower would be nice,'

'I don't think there's any showers here, Sungmin. We're in a shopping mall... I think I heard that Chinese guy talking about fixing up one of the showroom showers so it would work or something, but you'll have to wait.'  
'Fine, fine. Just... just get me away from this toilet, it's making me feel worse.'  
'Can you manage it?' He pulled him gently to his feet, trying not to jolt him or take him off balance as they left the stall.

'I just need a change of clothes. Brushing my teeth would be a slice of heaven right now, too.' He reasoned. He just wanted to feel clean, his clothes felt hot and itchy and he hadn't washed in over three days, and his usually glossy, soft black hair looking greasy and knotty. He glanced down at his attire, feeling a small hint of confusion. He didn't remember getting dressed, and he was sure he was in his pyjamas when the accident happened. Had Kyuhyun changed his clothes? He blushed softly.  
'I'm sorry for being a burden.' Sungmin whispered as they walked slowly out of the bathroom. His words were barely audible, but Kyuhyun heard them.

He'd never felt so awkward. He had no idea how to reply, he cleared his throat, resisting the urge to say something rude or sarcastic as he would usually do.

'You're not a burden.'

And he meant it. It was his own fault for leaving him in their room alone, if anything Sungmin should have been mad at him, because Kyuhyun was definitely mad at himself.

 

\--------------- 

 

'Youngwoon?' Jungsu whispered softly, gently shaking the sleeping figure draped ungracefully over the small wooden bench. 'Youngwoon!' he tried again when he didn't stir. He flinched on instinct when the younger man rolled over and swatted his hand away aggressively.

'Get lost, I'm sleeping,' he growled, rolling back onto his stomach and scrunching his face up. He let out a screech – a sound he'd adamantly deny making – as he felt slender fingers dig into his side, shoving him off the bench and onto the cold laminate floor.

'Get up, we're having a meeting,' Jungsu laughed as Youngwoon lay sprawled in an ungainly heap on the floor. His chirpy, high-pitched giggle seemed to dissipate Youngwoon's earlier annoyance as he got to his knees, dusting off his clothes before accepting the hand Jungsu offered him and getting to his feet.

They boarded the elevator to the first floor, walking to the large restaurant and spotting Heechul, Hankyung and, to Jungsu's surprise, the two students who lived in the dorm next to his, Sungmin and Kyuhyun all seated at one of the many large, mahogany tables in the lavish seating area.

Jungsu missed the look of distaste on Youngwoon's face when he took the seat beside Hankyung, leaving the only seat available for him the one beside Heechul.

A moment of silence passed over the group before Hankyung cleared his throat and started to speak, looking at each person in turn.

'A lot has happened today, so it would be good to start off with some introductions. I don't know any of you, and you don't know me, so I'll start. My name is Hankyung, and I worked here as a security guard before all this happened, this place is completely safe, so don't worry about any of those things getting in. And just... I'd recommend that you avoid the basement.' Youngwoon would have asked why, but Hankyung had a look that told him to keep his questions to himself. The Chinese man turned to Heechul and nodded for him to speak. 

'Everyone knows me.' Heechul shrugged, and they all nodded in agreement. Everybody knew Heechul.

'Okay, you.' Hankyung pointed at the lanky boy beside Youngwoon who sat looking bored out of his mind.

He didn't sit up from his slouched, lazy position in his seat, speaking lazily. 'Kyuhyun, nineteen. And this is Sungmin, twenty.' he motioned to the smaller boy leaning on his shoulder.

'What exactly is wrong with your friend?' Hankyung asked, regarding the small teens pale, drawn face and heavy eyelids. He looked ready to pass out at any given moment. He probably looked just as bad as him and Jungsu, Youngwoon reflected. In fact, he was still wearing his dirty clothes and he probably still stunk of parties and old sick.

'He has a concussion, it's not a bite.' Kyuhyun looked pointedly at Hankyung, the Chinese man visibly relaxing at the new information. Youngwoon wondered if he was missing something, because he honestly had no idea what he meant by 'bite'. Why would a bite be worrying?

'Bite?' Jungsu straightened in his seat, looking deeply intrigued and voicing out Youngwoon's thoughts. 

'Maybe we should focus on what's going on outside rather than personal introductions.' Youngwoon suggested, and Kyuhyun took the lead, sitting up in his seat with a new-found vigour. 

'On the way here, I picked up a few newspapers and magazines to see if I could find anything out. We'd all heard about China, right?' He paused momentarily, looking at Hankyung for a moment. Hankyung nodded, signalling him to carry on. 'Apparently there was a pandemic that broke out in a small village deep in the heart of China, anyone infected would die, be it within a few minutes or a few days – but they wouldn't stay dead.' He paused. Youngwoon felt there was no need for dramatic effect, wishing the boy would just get on with the damn story. 'They had no vital signs; their hearts stopped. The only sign of life was a small amount of brain activity – extremely small. The dead would lunge out at the closest person, trying to bite them. They don't stop feeding; the only function they know is the instinct to hunt, to spread the pathogen to a new host.'

'Zombies?' Jungsu laughed, shaking his head, 'that's ludicrous. That stuff only exists in bad fiction and cheap horror films.'

'It's true,' Hankyung said, 'I've watched from the rooftop. They rip people to pieces, but they leave enough of the victim that they can still... function. Like their arms and legs, so they can still walk around after they reanimate. The victim gets back up, be it after a minute or a day, even without a heart or lungs. Once I saw... I saw a head. Just a head, dragging itself along by the teeth.'

Youngwoon couldn’t fight the look of disgust that twitched at his face, but when he spared a glance, he saw that Jungsu obviously felt the same.

'They only die if you destroy the brain. That's what every film has taught us, and it's true, I've seen it. Remember those soldiers back at college? ' Kyuhyun paused, seeing Jungsu and Youngwoon nod before continuing, 'They aimed for the head every time.'

'What happened at college?' Hankyung asked, and Sungmin seemed to wake up a little at the question.

'Well, the-' Kyuhyun started, but Jungsu held up a hand to pause him.

'I was there when everything started,' he said, and drew a deep breath, relaying the events of that night to the group. He told them about the soldiers, the tent and the gunshots. 'Now that I think about it,' he breathed, 'the blood... the blood on the tent was congealed.'

'Congealed?' Heechul squinted. He'd been lost in the conversation since Kyuhyun started speaking. Not everyone knew big, long, technical words.

'If something congeals it goes thick and lumpy.' Jungsu explained, 'But blood coagulates only after you die.'

'So were they shooting at us or not?' Youngwoon asked. In all honesty, he could hardly remember what happened that night. He could only recall the panic, the soldiers and the wild rush to find Jungsu.

'They probably didn’t intend to. When they found someone carrying the virus, they must have been on orders to de-contaminate the area.' Kyuhyun answered.

'And by de-contaminate, you mean massacre.' Heechul chuckled humourlessly. 'We should get guns.' 

And if there was anything Youngwoon was scared of, it was Heechul with a gun. Forget zombies.

'Where would you find a gun in South Korea, Heechul?' Jungsu sighed, 'This isn't a movie.'

'You'd be surprised...' Heechul mumbled, but Hankyung spoke over him.

'And besides,' started Hankyung, 'guns are loud and loud noises equal more zombies. It's best to use melee weapons.'

'They hear?' Youngwoon straightened a little in his seat, because things just got a little more interesting.

'They hear, they see, they smell. Anything the person they once were could do, so can they. If the person was blind, they'll be blind. It's the same for an injury or a disability; it's just that the zombie won't feel the pain of say a twisted ankle or a gunshot wound.' Hankyung explained, earning a hum of appreciation from Jungsu and a quiet smile from Heechul.

'Why do you know all this?' Heechul asked, resting his arm on the table and leaning towards the Chinese man, smirking. Youngwoon fought back the urge to spit. 

Kyuhyun huffed, 'It's common knowledge,' he said, 'everyone knows this stuff, do you guys live under a rock?'

Youngwoon decided he didn't like this guys attitude. 

'Drop the attitude, kid.' growled Heechul, eyes wide and commanding. He sure knew how to make people do as he said. The lanky boy crossed his arms sulkily, turning his attention to the boy asleep on his shoulder.

'You're a medical student, right?' Kyuhyun asked, looking at Jungsu. 'can you make sure he's okay?'

'Well, what exactly is wrong with him?' Jungsu got out of his seat and moved to kneel beside Sungmin. He’d closed his eyes a few minutes ago, and apparently he’d fallen asleep.

'The ceiling fell in on him, he's concussed. Vomiting, loss of balance, lethargy – he has the symptoms.'

'How long ago did it happen?'

'The night the soldiers came.'

'That long? Jeez, you're lucky he's still responsive.' Jungsu quickly stood up, pulling the sleeping teen up into a standing position before looping his arm over his shoulder and making to leave the restaurant. 'Hankyung, are there beds?'

'There's one made up just around the corner, but the sheets are dirty,' he glanced at Heechul briefly, ‘just throw them off.’

'That's fine, thank you.' and he turned a corner, out of sight. Kyuhyun looked as if he was experiencing some sort of mild physical pain.

'Chill out, he'll look after him.' assured Heechul, 'what's the deal with you two anyway?'

Kyuhyun fidgeted. 'What deal?'

'You're acting like you're married or something.' Heechul smirked, 'It's creepy.'

'Not everyone's gay, Heechul.' Youngwoon grumbled, not missing the look Hankyung threw his way. 

'It's none of your business, anyway.' Kyuhyun snapped, a deep frown settling on his brow. 'There are more important things to talk about, for example; the fact that you've only boarded up the windows on the ground floor. And how long is the food downstairs going to last? How long it will take for the electricity to be shut off, and how are we going to get rescued.' 

Youngwoon really didn't like his attitude – and apparently neither did anyone else; Heechul miming the word 'wow' and Hankyung rubbing his temples.

'I guess this would be a good time to mention the basement.' sighed Hankyung, 'Simply, don't go down there until we've checked it out. We heard noises down there.'

'You didn't even scope this place out?' hissed Kyuhyun, laying his palms on the table and leaning forward.

'I did, but I forgot all about the basement. This place is pretty big.'  
'And you should really stop bitching at the guy who saved your life.' Warned Heechul.

‘Well, instead of bitching at each other, aren’t you going to see what’s down there?’ Youngwoon quirked his brow at the two opposite him, and grimaced when he felt Heechul’s heeled boot come into contact with his knee, but Kyuhyun was already nodding.

‘I agree.’

\-----------

‘Since when was he in charge?’ Heechul grumbled under his breath, ‘fucking Youngwoon…’

‘Stop grumbling,’ Hankyung sighed, and looked at the crowbar Heechul was gripping in his dainty hands, ‘you look ridiculous holding that.'

‘I look fabulous,’

‘Sure you do.’ he laughed, and Heechul quirked a brow.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. Did you really get all the way from college alone? With those weak little arms?’ he poked Heechul in the arm and deftly dodged the weak punch aimed in his direction.

‘Watch your mouth or I might just show you how well these weak little arms can swing a crowbar.’ 

Hankyung raised his hands in a mock sign of surrender, before turning to the basement door, tapping it gently open and wincing as it screeched on its joints, slamming into the concrete wall of the stairwell and echoing along the damp walls.

‘If we die, it’s your fault.’ Heechul griped, once again clutching to Hankyung's shirt as they started to descend the concrete steps, the darkness growing thicker and thicker

‘Turn the flashlight on.’

‘Not yet.’

‘Turn the damn flashlight on!’ 

‘Just wait!’

‘I get panic attacks, you know. I could die.’

‘You’re a real drama queen, you know that?’ Hankyung sighed, flicking the switch on the floodlight in his hand – a replacement for the measly torch he’d brought earlier. He moved the light to-and-fro, illuminating the steps before him, but there was still a while to go before he’d actually see into the basement.

‘You shouldn’t have let those two in, you know. That Kyuhyun guy especially.’ Heechul griped, and his face was the perfect picture of disgust when that name passed his lips.

‘He’s just shy,’ Heechul looked at him incredulously, ‘he’s just building barriers, that's all.’

‘What are you, a psychologist? I'm the one who studied psychology, geez.’ Heechul sniggered, but he fell silent soon enough. The basement was much brighter with the floodlight, but it was still dark, and Heechul could feel his knuckles turning white with the death grip he had on the cloth of Hankyung’s shirt. ‘There must be a light switch or something,’ he whispered, straining his eyes as he looked up, trying to see any kind of light fissure on the high ceiling. He kept close as Hankyung moved further into the vast, damp space. There were racks everywhere, right to the ceiling, like a hardware store, and they couldn’t see anything apart from what was directly in front of them. Heechul almost tripped when Hankyung stopped abruptly, his large hand suddenly covering Heechul's mouth before he could yelp.

He was about to ask why they’d stopped, but he realised soon enough. 

There was a thud, a clanking above them – different to the rhythmic clinking of the boilers. It sounded as if something was crawling, shuffling through the piping. Heechul’s hands suddenly felt clammy, and he released Hankyung’s shirt from his tight grip, moving to hold his arm instead, and the Chinese man pulled him close to his chest. Another time, maybe he would have had the decency to blush, but right then he was shit scared and just wanted to run, because it wasn’t enough that he was in the dark – this time he knew there were monsters.

He heard the Chinese man suck in a breath, and his eyes almost popped from his skull when he heard him give a shrill, high whistle, the sound ringing in his ears. The fuck was this guy doing?

‘The fuck are you doing?’ he hissed, hitting him in the stomach and looking around wildly, searching the dark for anything that might be coming.

‘If it comes to us, it saves looking for it.’ was his simple reply, and Heechul just wanted to punch that face. He wanted to wipe off that calm expression, because Heechul was far from calm.

He was ready to snap at the idiot, but he stopped. ‘Hankyung,’ he whispered, ‘there’s something behind me.’

‘Don’t move,’ he said, but Heechul wasn’t going to go anywhere fast, was he? ‘Be ready to use that,’ he motioned to the crowbar Heechul had forgotten he was holding – extremely tight, in fact, and only then did he notice how rusty it was, cutting into his skin. He held it ready, his other hand leaving Hankyung’s warm arm to hold the cold metal. It wasn’t a nice compromise.

‘On the count of three, we turn.’ and Heechul nodded, taking a breath. Hankyung counted down on his fingers, the other hand still shining the torch ahead of them and a frying pan held tight under his arm.

‘one,’ what if he died? What if his luck ran out and he died, forgotten by the world in this damp, dark basement with only his bones left to his name.

‘two,’ what if he got bitten? What if he turned into one of them and started chomping down on Hankyung? He was surprised how little he minded that idea.

‘One!’ Heechul yelled as he turned, ready to swing, the light quickly changing direction as Hankyung did the same, illuminating the monster that had been waiting in the dark.

‘You're shitting me, right?’ Heechul laughed, and Hankyung did the same, both letting out a sigh.

It was a cat.

‘We did all this over a cat?’ he turned to look at Hankyung – but his smile dropped abruptly. ‘Move. Move now. Move.’ he hissed, eyes wide. He’d expected him to ask him ‘why?’ or ‘what’s wrong?’ but apparently he wasn’t an idiot, and he span on his heel, the torch illuminating a pallid, drawn face; maggots in its empty eye-socket and bony, thin fingers reaching for Hankyung, for its meal.

There was a resounding ‘dong’ as the pan connected with its head, and an even louder crack as its skull shattered, the limp body falling to the ground. And in a sick way, Heechul was impressed. Well, until Hankyung turned to face him, covered in blood and gore. He turned on his heel and scooped the cat into his arms, making a bee-line for the steps. ‘Find the propane system thing,’ he called over his shoulder before he disappeared up the stairwell, leaving Hankyung alone in the dark with a dead body and a bent frying pan.


	9. Chapter 9

Jungsu looked up when he heard approaching footsteps, and saw Heechul sauntering over with a very uncomfortable looking cat in his arms.

'Why do you have a cat. Heechul?' Jungsu asked tiredly, regarding him as he walked closer to the group surrounding the display bed Sungmin was currently lying on, sweating in his sleep. He’d been watching over the teen for a little over an hour by then, and with only a few hours sleep in three days he was feeling pretty groggy.

'Found it, the thing loves me!' he cooed, squeezing it tighter in his arms. He didn't seem to notice how its eyes were bulging or the way its claws were embedded in his forearm. Or rather, he didn't acknowledge it.

Heechul pulled up a seat next to Jungsu and nodded toward the teen looking clammy and uncomfortable on the bed.

‘How long does he have left?’

‘Till what?’

‘Till he dies,’ Heechul snorted, patting the poor cat in his lap roughly.

‘That’s not funny,’ Jungsu sighed. He looked back at the two teens sleeping on the bed before him. Kyuhyun was kneeling beside Sungmin on the floor, his head resting on the sheets and his hand clasped with the younger boys.  
Youngwoon’s snores could be heard from where he was napping – again – on a nearby bench. Heechul looked irritated.

‘Why can’t you two just get along?’ Jungsu asked, looking between the two. Heechul frowned. ‘You’re going to have to get used to each other whether you like it or not.’

Heechul pouted and crossed his arms sulkily, ‘Why should I? You shouldn’t have brought him.’

‘Why not? He’s my friend; I wouldn’t leave him there to die, just like I wouldn’t leave you.’ He didn’t see why he had to explain himself. Youngwoon had hurt himself trying to make sure he was safe, so why shouldn’t he return the favour?

‘He’s not worth the hassle. What has he ever done for you?’

It was a fair question if he thought about it. He’d always been the one cleaning up the mess Youngwoon left behind. Not once had Youngwoon apologised for the harsh way he treated him, but Jungsu never paid it any heed. That was just the way Youngwoon was; in the same sense that Heechul was bratty and pampered, Youngwoon was thick-headed and brusque.

‘I’ve never asked him for anything,’ Jungsu replied evasively. Heechul quirked a brow and opened his mouth to argue, but Jungsu shook his head. ‘Just leave it, Heechul.’

The younger man shook his head in frustration and let out an exasperated sigh, but dropped the subject anyway.

‘Anyway,’ Jungsu continued after a short pause, ‘Where’s Hankyung? And who is he exactly?’

‘I left him in the basement,’ Heechul said vaguely, ‘I woke up and he was here. I’ve only known him since this morning.’

Jungsu gawked, ‘You woke up and he was here? What do you mean?’

‘I mean, I fell asleep as soon as I found this place. He was in bed with me when I woke up.’

‘Did he touch you?’

‘Excuse me?’ Heechul snorted ungracefully. Heechul was impossible. 'If he'd touched me there'd be a funny smell coming from beneath the bed where I'd have shoved his corpse.'

‘You’re impossible,’ Jungsu sighed, getting to his feet, ‘Do you think we’ll be safe here?’ he paced back and forth, ‘I wonder if my family is okay. I should call.’

‘Relax. You heard what Kyuhyun said, they were probably evacuated.’

‘That doesn’t stop me worrying, though.’

‘Well worry somewhere else. Make some food, I’m starving.’

‘You’re really rude, you know that?’ Jungsu muttered as he walked away, tapping Youngwoon gently on the shoulder as he passed.

Youngwoon didn’t look all too happy about being woken up, but he dropped his irritated expression slightly when he saw Jungsu’s face. Heechul was very observant. He’d expected Youngwoon to just shrug him off and tell him to get lost, but instead he followed Jungsu obediently into the restaurant, leaving Heechul slightly bewildered at his change in attitude.

He sighed; realising he was alone – minus the two unconscious teenagers. He took a moment to really think about what Jungsu had said. Were they safe here?

He’d just been going with the flow since he woke up. Hankyung hadn’t set off any alarm bells in his head since they’d met, so he hadn’t felt the need to be cautious of the younger man. And he’d be lying if he said he didn’t find the Chinese man attractive. Heechul found himself inexplicably safe around him, which was strange, because he was usually unreasonably wary of other people, especially if he woke up in bed with them. Not that it had happened before.

In all honesty, Jungsu was the only real friend he had.

He had acquaintances, of course, from classes, but he never got any closer than the occasional drinking buddy.

But really, he was too hungry to think about something so dull, not to mention bored out of his mind. He’d already torn the clothing department apart that morning, and he was surprised at how little activity he could come up with in such a large department store.

The cat leapt from his arms as he slackened his hold, not forgetting to hiss and spit as it tottered away.

\---

‘What’s your problem with Heechul?’ Jungsu asked, immediately interrogating Youngwoon as soon as the kitchen door was closed. It was a small kitchen if you considered the size of the restaurant, and Youngwoon was feeling slightly claustrophobic.

‘What’s this all of a sudden?’ He replied evasively, squirming under Jungsu’s critical gaze. He wasn’t used to seeing a pissed off Jungsu. It was usually him in control.

‘I know you two have never seen eye to eye, but if I’m going to be stuck in this place with the two of you at each other’s throats then I want this sorted out as soon as possible.’

It was reasonable enough, but Youngwoon knew that if he told him why he and Heechul had always been at each other’s throats, Jungsu would be disgusted. He didn’t know why the thought of that was so upsetting.

‘W-well,’ he stuttered defensively, crossing his arms, ‘It’s not like he’s been all too friendly with me.’

Jungsu sighed and leant against one of the gaudy, maroon marble counters. ‘That’s just the way he is,’ he looked away for a second, ‘You must have done something for him to hold a grudge this long.’

Youngwoon shrugged. He didn’t like being put on the spot, and he wished Jungsu would just drop the subject. ‘Wouldn’t it be better to ask him?’

Jungsu shook his head instantly, ‘He wouldn’t tell me even if I asked.’

‘I thought you two were close.’

‘Just answer my question.’

Youngwoon rolled his eyes on impulse, regretting it instantly when Jungsu frowned, looking like he wanted to give him a good smack around the head. He walked over to the fridge-freezer and looked inside, pointedly trying to change the topic. ‘What are you gonna cook, then?’

‘Youngwoon!’ Jungsu snapped. Youngwoon turned back to face him, a childish pout on his face as he closed the door to the freezer.

‘I’ve never even spoken to him before now,’ he lied, looking down at the floor, suddenly very interested in the tiles.

‘Not a word?’

‘Well,’ Youngwoon spoke slowly, ‘I may have… said a few things, a while ago.’

‘Like what?’ Jungsu pried; relieved he was finally getting somewhere. Youngwoon’s eyes darted here and there.

‘It’s really nothing.’

Jungsu straightened up and crossed his arms, furrowing his brows again, ‘What did you say, Youngwoon?’

‘I,’ he fumbled with his hands, ‘I called him a faggot.’

Jungsu reached for the nearest blunt object.

\---

Hankyung stepped out into the brisk, February night air, shifting the limp, heavy body slung over his shoulder as he made way over to the large dumpsters situated at the side of the building. He lifted the heavy, metal lid with a strong arm and dumped the body inside with all the delicacy he could muster, trying to be as silent as possible. 

Really, that Heechul guy was insufferable, making him do all the work alone.

There was a deep humming sound all around him, but he shrugged it off. It was probably just bugs or a car engine. He looked up. It was too dark for six o’clock at night, even in February. The sky was cloudy, the moon completely hidden by smoke and the only light he could see was from the few street lamps still working and the buildings burning nearby. 

He took a deep breath, inhaling the cool night air. It would have been refreshing if it didn’t stink of burning and petrol and something else he didn’t like the smell of. It kind of smelt like something was rotting. Probably just the bins.

Now that he looked at it, the department store was lit up like a Christmas tree. He hadn’t boarded up the upper floor windows, so light was spilling out, bright and yellow into the dark. That was when he realised something was off.

He listened intently for a second. The humming was too deep for a gathering of insects, and too loud for a car engine. He kept his breathing as quiet as he could, pressing his back against the brick wall and edging closer to the corner, peering round to see the front of the building slowly.

‘Shit.’

\---

Heechul had just finished unfolding the last duvet for the twenty-sofa fort he’d made when a very sweaty Hankyung came bursting through the staff entrance, squeaking across the large room towards him. He looked panicked, an expression Heechul hadn’t seen the younger man wear since they’d met all of nine hours ago.

‘Heechul,’ he called as he got closer, and Heechul walked towards him, confused.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Well-‘ he paused, ‘what on earth have you been doing?’ he looked hopelessly at the make-shift camp Heechul had set up in the middle of the room; a mess of bed sheets and duvets pulled over settees with mattresses piled underneath.

‘I got bored.’  
Hankyung looked at him hopelessly, shaking his head in exasperation. He walked past Heechul towards his hand-made abomination, dipping beneath the canopy of sheets to take a seat inside.

After they’d got comfortable on the dense pile of duvets and cushions, Hankyung continued.

‘I went outside to dispose of the body you oh-so-graciously left for me to clean up,’ He looked pointedly at Heechul, but the prettier man just shrugged, ‘And I stumbled upon a rather disconcerting sight.’

‘Discon-what?’

‘Something bad, Heechul.’

‘Oh, okay, could’ve just said that, then.’ Heechul shook his head, ‘Well, what was so bad that you came back smelling like a pair of dirty socks?’ He asked, waving his hand in front of his face dramatically.

Hankyung ignored Heechul's attempt at humour and continued, ‘I was out the back, near the dumpsters, but there was this noise. It was like rumbling or a loud hum.’

‘So?’

‘So, I took a look round the front of the building and there were hundreds of them, all looking up at the building. More kept coming. They didn’t see me.’

‘When you say “them”, you mean…?’

‘Those things. The zombies, as Kyuhyun called them.’

‘So you’re saying there’s a horde of them outside?’ Heechul asked disinterestedly, playing with his nails.

‘Yes. I blocked off the basement when I came back inside, which is why I’m a bit sweaty.’

‘Why are there so many? Why here?’

‘Well…’

Kyuhyun looked at Hankyung blankly.

‘So there’s hundreds of undead heading straight for us because we’re the only building with the lights still on?’

Hankyung nodded.

‘Hankyung,’ Kyuhyun started, staring off into space in the same disinterested manner as usual, ‘did you board up the entrance when you… secured the building?’

Hankyung shook his head. ‘I locked the doors.’

‘So you didn’t board up the big, glass doors that lead directly into the building?’

Heechul clicked his tongue, ‘You should really get that stick out of your ass, kid,’ he spat, throwing Kyuhyun a withering look, which he ignored with ease.

In his opinion, he could’ve found somewhere much better to stay. If he hadn’t brought Sungmin along, he wouldn’t have to put up with this bunch of idiots. He could've kept going, rather than settling for the first safe place he could find.

They were sat around Sungmin’s bed again, all five of them. Kyuhyun had woken up and joined them, reluctantly. Youngwoon was sat beside him, looking very uncomfortable and sporting a large, red mark on his forehead. Jungsu was sat on the other side of the lanky teen, a tense expression on his face.

‘He has a point, though,’ Youngwoon said, referring to Kyuhyun’s earlier comment, ‘We should turn the lights out, at least, and bar the entrance.’

‘And then eat,’ Heechul added with enthusiasm.

Kyuhyun looked at Hankyung testily, ‘What’s the plan then, sir,’ he asked, cocking his head to the side and stretching his long legs out a little. He was used to being in charge. Whenever he was forced into a group project or a team-building activity, he always took the role as leader. But it was fun to watch other people squirm once in a while.

Hankyung leaned against the wall and seemed to take a moment to think.

Kyuhyun smirked.

He seemed to think something up pretty fast, though, as he looked back at them after a few seconds. Not that Kyuhyun was praising him. He wouldn’t have had to think.

‘Firstly we light as many lamps and candles as we can find. That way we can make our way around the building without using the lights, and the building will be a lot dimmer from the outside. Hopefully those things outside will give up after a while.’ Everyone nodded, save for Kyuhyun.

‘And then what?’ He asked. Hankyung was too calm for his liking. He couldn’t read him like he read other people, and he didn’t like how similar the Chinese man was to himself.

‘We should have two people on watch through the night, changing every four hours so we can all get a fair amount of sleep. We’ll block off the entrance in the morning.’

Kyuhyun frowned.

‘Who’s watching with who and what are we watching?’ Heechul asked, earning a few confused glances. 

‘Huh?’ Youngwoon grunted dumbly.

‘Who’s going to be watching with whom, and what are we watching for?’ Jungsu simplified.

‘Oh,’ Hankyung looked at Sungmin’s sleeping form on the bed, still slightly pale with a thin sheen of sweat on his forehead, ‘there’s an odd number because of him, so…’

‘I’ll watch on my own.’ Kyuhyun interrupted. It was more of a statement than an offer. He preferred his own company, anyway. And it would give him a chance to have a good look around. Maybe he’d find a laptop in one of the offices..

Hankyung nodded, ‘If you’re sure, then I’ll watch first with Youngwoon. I’ll wake you two up when it’s your turn.’ He said, motioning to Heechul and Jungsu.

Youngwoon looked dumbfounded.

‘Why am I with you?’ he spluttered.

‘We need to talk.’

\---

Youngwoon pulled his jacket tighter around his broad shoulders, nursing the rapidly cooling cup of coffee Jungsu had practically thrown in his face. Even when Jungsu was angry, he still cared.

He leaned over the railing, looking down on the congregation slowly building below. Even from the roof he could hear them moaning, growling. The noise seemed to be attracting more, just as Hankyung had said. Street lamps had started to flicker and go out one by one since he’d been standing watch, and now the only light came from the smouldering fires of nearby buildings and the dim glow of the department store; illuminating the rabid, heaving mass below.

Hankyung was stood on the opposite side of the roof, looking down on the parking lot. He hadn’t spoken a word since they’d started their shift an hour ago, and Youngwoon was growing more anxious by the second.

The Chinese man was an awkward person to be around; not only because of his apparent distaste towards Youngwoon's opinions, but because he was a man of few words, and Youngwoon didn’t know whether he actually wanted to initiate a conversation. He had a feeling that if he said anything it’d only end in an awkward exchange of words before they both turned silent again. And for a second he thought he’d prefer to be on watch with an angry Jungsu – at least then there’d be conversation, be it heated or not.

Besides the thick, stifling silence, Youngwoon was uncomfortable for another reason. He had absolutely no idea what he was supposed to do. The ‘zombies’ down on the ground weren’t up to much; just aimlessly pushing and shoving each other, and it was bitingly cold; the wind blowing his jet black, short hair all over the place and turning his nose a deep pink.

He could only grumble to himself about how much he wished the whole ‘end of the world’ business had waited until summer. Though, even if he didn’t listen much in Biology, he knew rotting flesh didn’t half reek if you turned the temperature up. He kept that in mind as his fingers started to grow stiff and his ears started to sting. Beneath his ‘muscle’, Youngwoon was a big baby on the inside.

He’d much rather be back indoors; covered with expensive blankets and lying on soft, duck-feathered pillows; but instead he was stuck up on the roof, in the cold, with Mr. Silent.

‘So,’ Hankyung spoke suddenly, making Youngwoon jump slightly and betraying the choice nickname he’d just been given, ‘what happened between you and Jungsu?’

‘What do you mean?’ Youngwoon answered on reflex, the question seeming to come out of nowhere and catch him off guard. Though he wasn’t facing the older man, he could tell he’d turned towards him – he could practically feel his eyes boring into his back.

‘I’ve went to the same college as you guys for almost two years, and I’ve never seen Jungsu that mad.’

Youngwoon grimaced. Two years? He couldn’t remember seeing the Chinese man even once. 

‘And you’ve got a nice bump on your forehead.’

'It’s none of your business.’ Youngwoon retorted, taking a sip of his coffee and frowning at its lukewarm temperature before flinging the thermal paper cup over the railing absent-mindedly.

‘While you’re here - in my hideout - it is. You two having a lovers tiff could affect how we work as a team if worst comes to worst.’ Youngwoon twitched - lovers tiff? He’d punched people for less. ‘And maybe I’m just nosey.’ Hankyung added before Youngwoon could run his mouth off about his little quip.

The stouter man drew his gaze away from the writhing crowd below and turned to look at the Chinese man stood across from him. It was a wonder, really, that he could hear him so clearly, considering the distance; and the wind was howling – carrying the moans for miles around in a hollow cry. He sighed, leaning back against the rusty, unsecured railing; he was already in Hankyung’s bad books, and he knew he was treading on broken glass.

He winced – that was a bad metaphor.

‘I don’t have a grudge against you, let’s just talk. We have another three hours, after all.’

Youngwoon rolled his eyes. Why was this guy so nosey? But the thought of another three hours in the cold with nothing to take his mind off his rapidly numbing appendages didn’t sound too good to him, and he guessed Hankyung wasn’t so bad.

‘It wasn’t my fault,’ Youngwoon blurted quickly, ‘I was hardly involved.’

‘Just tell me.’ Hankyung persisted, his voice always retaining that cool, calm tone. It was slightly irritating.

He frowned, looking down at his feet before sinking down onto the concrete; resting his head against the cold, metal railing. Hankyung mirrored him, though his head was turned to the side, looking through the bars to the parking lot below.

Youngwoon cleared his throat. ‘Back in high school I was involved with a bad crowd. I was a new transfer, mid-way into the year, and my group already had a problem with Heechul. I just went along with it. He brought it on himself, really,’ he smirked, ‘only an idiot would come out of the closet in high school.’

‘So you and Heechul hate each other so much because of some petty high school bullying?’ Hankyung looked at Youngwoon for the first time since the latter had started talking, ‘Tell me the rest.’

Youngwoon could really see why Heechul got along with this guy – neither of them knew when to keep their noses out of other people’s business.

He picked at a flaking scrap of paint on a the rail beside his head, pouting. ‘That’s all.’ He mumbled.

‘If that was all, I don’t think Jungsu would have attacked you like that.’

Youngwoon grit his teeth, the scowl on his face deepening by the second. If he just stopped talking, maybe Hankyung would get bored and just drop the subject. 

Half an hour passed. Hankyung had one hell of a stare. The taller man had moved to lean against the railing beside Youngwoon, his arms crossed over his broad chest and his eyes boring into Youngwoon’s. Youngwoon couldn’t tell in the dim light, but it felt as though the Chinese man hadn’t blinked once.

He cleared his throat, tired of the silence. ‘The guys I hung around with used to use Jungsu as a punching bag. Heechul made a deal with me.’

‘A deal?’

‘Well, more like he threatened to cut me into pieces and post them to my mother if I didn’t comply.’ he shrugged, ‘He told me to draw their attention away from Jungsu - and not to tell Jungsu anything.’

He remembered when Heechul had made that little compromise. For some reason, he could tell just by looking into his eyes that the older boys threat wasn't a joke, and he couldn’t bear to imagine his mothers face when she opened the mail, tiny chunks of her son falling out.

‘And did you?’

‘It was a good compromise. A geek for a gay.’ he chuckled. Hankyung didn’t seem to get the joke.

‘Why did you stop bullying Jungsu? You could’ve just ignored Heechul’s request – tortured them both.’

Youngwoon fidgeted, stuttering, ‘Well-‘

Hankyung cut him off, ‘Would you hate Jungsu, too, if he was gay?’ he asked pointedly, daring him to answer.

Youngwoon opened his mouth to reply, make a ‘witty’ retort, but stopped. Jungsu was the closest thing to a best friend he’d ever had; was he really so fickle?

\--------

Hankyung smiled softly as he crept towards where Heechul was sleeping in the make-shift camp he’d constructed. His face was a lot softer when he was sleeping, wiped free of that obnoxious smirk and replaced with a small pout on plump pink lips. His hair lay in disarray around his face as he hugged his pillow to his cheek.

‘Someone’s got a crush.’ Youngwoon scoffed from over Hankyung’s shoulder, a subtle look of disgust on his chubby face. Hankyung wanted to punch it.

‘I guess that makes two of us then.’ He looked over his shoulder at the stouter man and raised his eyebrow, watching him scoff and turn away stiffly, shrugging off his jacket before burrowing under the mountain of bed sheets.

Hankyung knelt down beside Heechul and shook him gently by the shoulder - with more confidence than that morning - and received a half-hearted glare from beneath dark hair for his efforts. Heechul sat up groggily, rubbing his eyes and kicking the sheets off his legs lazily.

‘You looked a lot more attractive when you were sleeping.’ Hankyung said, regarding the dark circles under the older man's narrowed eyes and his sleep-mussed hair.

Heechul leaned into Hankyung’s face, a devilish smirk playing on his lips as usual. 

‘So you admit you do find me attractive?’ 

Hankyung only smiled, a retort on the tip of his tongue, but he was cut off by a hand waving irritably between the two as Jungsu appeared, looking tired and grumpy; grabbing Heechul’s skinny arm and pulling him up and out of the duvet fortress. 

Heechul’s shrieks of protest slowly faded as he was dragged further and further away, and Hankyung could only sit and smile to himself.

\--

 

Heechul rubbed at the rapidly reddening mark on his wrist from where Jungsu had dragged him rather roughly up to the third floor. ‘You’ve probably left a bruise, you know.’ he grumbled, catching his reflection in a shop window and stopping to fix his hair – though he was just going to mess it up again when he got back into bed.

Jungsu only clicked his tongue and walked ahead, a flash-light in his hand illuminating the headless mannequins in the shop windows. Candles were sitting on all the benches and decorations, but none were in the shops. Hankyung had said to leave this floor for tomorrow, when nothing could creep up on them in the dark, but he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t freaked out. 

He looked at his reflection absent-mindedly, noting that he looked like he’d been dragged through hell and back. He’d been wearing the same clothes for three days. He hadn’t bothered coming here to grab some pyjamas, and he still hadn’t washed. He ran his tongue over his teeth as he walked on again and grimaced at the feel of them. 

He heard Heechul’s footsteps grow closer as he ran to catch up, finally distracted from his own face. When he’d fallen into step beside Jungsu, he shone his flash-light into his face and teased; ‘What’s up, anyway, grumpy guts?’

Heechul leaned back on reflex, narrowly avoiding the finger Jungsu thrust at his face rather aggressively. ‘You’re what’s up!’ he growled, ‘why didn’t you tell me?’

Heechul swatted Jungsu’s hand away from his face. ‘Tell you what?’

‘I told you not to get involved with my business.’ Jungsu shook his head, ‘And to think I’d find out from Youngwoon instead of you.’ He saw Heechul’s mouth twitch slightly at his last statement before he rolled his eyes and stormed off.

‘We’re not talking about this.’ Heechul stated, making for a clothing store up ahead. Jungsu made a noise of protest from behind him, to which he stopped and turned, pointing his finger as Jungsu had done previously. ‘Take a shower. Hankyung fixed one up earlier on. You smell like alcohol and old vomit. I’ll get you some clothes…’ he paused looking at Jungsu's current attire, ‘from this era.’

Jungsu blinked at the sudden change of subject, and Heechul disappeared into one of the clothes stores, a dim light from inside being the only way he could tell he was still there. He pulled at his collar and took a tentative sniff for the sake of it, and recoiled instantly. He reeked of out of date milk.

Following Heechul’s orders he skulked off to the find the shower Hankyung had set up in the bathroom. He’d always found toilets to be a little unnerving – they seemed to be where everybody died in horror films – and walking into the dark, silent room he felt his heart beat just a little bit faster. 

He shook off the feeling that something was going to creep up on him, and set his flash-light on top of one of the sink counters before undressing. He turned the water on in the shower, holding his hand beneath the water until it got hot before stepping inside. The darkness made it hard for him to see what he was doing, and he blindly fiddled with the shower settings. He let out a strangled scream as he was suddenly blasted with scalding hot water, and frantically turned the knob, sighing in relief as the temperature turned just right.

He felt his muscles relax as the warm water washed away the tension knotted up under his skin, and ran his fingers through his tangled hair. He’d never take showers for granted again. In fact, he was so lost in the soothing sensation of hot water against tired skin that he didn’t notice the shadow falling before the flash-light, his eyes closed to keep the water out. Nor did he notice the groan and the shuffle from just behind his shower curtain, the water being too loud against the tiles. 

No, he didn’t notice until he felt cold fingertips against his bare skin, and spinning reflexively to see who’d intruded into his personal space, he was confronted with a pair of pale, bulging eyes and dark, leathery skin, a jaw snapping and grinding as it drew closer and closer to his throat.

Jungsu’s eyes widened as its neck snapped grotesquely to an unnatural angle, and a resounding ‘crack’ echoed in his ears before the creature dropped bonelessly to the bathroom floor, revealing Heechul standing there, breathless and grinning like a lunatic.

‘Tell your mother I saved your life, hey?’

\----

The two rounded the corner to where Kyuhyun was sitting, both clad in extremely bright pink, dotted pyjamas (the 'first thing' Heechul could find) and Jungsu couldn’t wait to go back to sleep. He’d had enough for one night, but Heechul halted him and pulled him back behind a wall. 

‘What?’ he asked, and Heechul held a hand up to shush him.

‘Don’t tell him what happened.’ Heechul said, motioning with his head to where Kyuhyun was.  
Jungsu looked at him, baffled, before mouthing 'Why?'

‘I don’t like him, and he’ll make a fuss.’ 

Jungsu would’ve said something, but Heechul had already stepped away, and he followed. He really couldn’t be bothered to argue with Heechul, and Kyuhyun seemed smart enough to realise something was off.

\----

Kyuhyun glanced at his watch. 3am. He hadn’t slept a wink, watching Sungmin sleep instead of joining the others on the floor below. The older boys cheeks had regained some of their rosy hue, and his sleep seemed more peaceful than before. His breathing had evened out and he hadn’t been fidgeting as much. Not that Kyuhyun was worried, as soon as Sungmin was well again they were getting out of this place. Kyuhyun didn’t like to be around too many people, and Sungmin could turn out to be useful if he was in a fix.

He heard a distant chatter approach, the hyperactive nattering of Heechul that Kyuhyun had already grown to recognise echoing through the entire first floor. He stood as they rounded the corner, waving them off. Seeing that he was already awake, they left him be. He spared a quick glance at Sungmin before making his way to the stairwell, grabbing a candle on the way.

The stairwell was pitch black, even with the candle. It barely illuminated two feet before him, and he tripped on every other step he ascended. A brief conversation with Hankyung had informed him of the offices on the fourth floor, where he was headed. His steps echoed in the hollow darkness, polished handrails glinting gold from the candlelight. 

He was well and truly out of breath by the time he reached the fourth floor, and he cursed himself for not taking the elevator. He leaned against the entrance, resting his forehead on the cool wooden door and trying to catch his breath, waiting for his legs to become usable again. He’d never taken part in physical education back in his school days, and it was a wonder he was so thin; living off energy drinks and only moving when it was absolutely necessary.

After a few seconds he stood upright again, holding his candle before him. He pushed the door open as quietly as he could, taking a cautious glance around before stepping in properly, nearly jumping out of his skin when the door slammed shut behind him.

This floor was considerably smaller than the other floors, a wide space at the far back seemed to be reserved for stock and filing cabinets, while the rest of the room was filled with small office cubicles, narrow aisles between them. By the looks of things, Hankyung hadn’t bothered with this floor. It was lit dimly by the few lamps still upright on desks, the rest seemingly toppled over or smashed from what he could see. There were computer chairs toppled over in the aisles, papers strewn everywhere and a few of the light fissures were hanging down ominously. Apparently, the people working here left in a panic.

But what Kyuhyun’s attention was fixed on almost instantly wasn’t the mystery of what had happened on this floor, but the big, bulky computer sitting on the desk before him, staring at him, calling to him.

He practically skipped over to the small cubicle, sitting down in the sunken, over-used computer chair and setting the candle down on the desk. So many emails he’d have to reply to, so many people he’d have to catch up with. He was extremely popular on the internet.

He rubbed his hands together, grinning like a child before turning the old, bulky, off-white contraption on and hearing it roar and groan to life. Looking around at the cubicle where he was sitting, though, he felt a chill run up his spine.

Cats. Everywhere. Hundreds of pictures of cats all over the little office walls, their beady little eyes staring into his soul. A picture frame rested on the desk beside the computer screen. In it sat a picture of – who he guessed to be – the woman who worked here, surrounded by cats, all looking perpetually unamused, framed by pink tinsel. How disturbing.

He heard a crash from a few rows over, and stood bolt upright, his seat toppling over. He whipped his head from side to side, searching for whatever caused the noise, but saw nothing but papers rustling around on the carpet, the blinds trembling from the wind blowing in through the open window. 

He took a breath, picking his seat up and sitting back down. He’d always been too paranoid, but with what was happening in the world right then, it was okay to be a little cautious. The welcome screen flashed onto the monitor, followed by the desktop, and his long fingers flew across the keyboard with years of practice, heading straight for Google. He was astonished, though, when he saw that this woman was still using Internet Explorer – he thought that abominable excuse for a web browser had gone out of fashion long ago. 

He was used to his sleek, high-bandwidth laptop back at college. It cost more than his life, and he felt a pang of sadness when he though of how he'd left it, shattered into pieces after it flew off his bed when those gunshots had sounded. It was like losing his best friend, or a close family member. He quickly snapped his head back to look over his shoulder, hearing another noise, though much closer this time, and once again finding nothing. 

The light flickered and he turned back to the computer, typing into the search bar: ‘Rescue attempts for South Korea’

The computer tower churned and groaned as the results started to show up, and he clicked the most relevant; a blog seemingly dedicated to zombies. Now, Kyuhyun knew he wasn’t exactly in any position to think it, but by God this guy had no life. The entries dated back nearly five years, and the most recent was only posted five days ago. He clicked it, leaning closer to the screen to read the words better. He’d left his glasses behind, but he barely used them anyway.

February 20th 2011; 11:05pm; Sunday

The End of Days

They sent help today. ‘help.’ Army personnel, all brandishing machine guns. They ushered practically everyone in my street into these big army trucks. I watched out of my window, I didn’t go down. A man was about to enter one of the trucks, but he started coughing – well, choking – up blood. A wound on his neck was bleeding profusely and everyone was panicking and screaming.

They shot them. All of them. After the screaming stopped and the street was quiet again, I heard one of the soldiers tell another ‘it’s too late.’

They left. They won’t be coming back, either. The street is black with blood tonight, and I can hear moaning and wailing getting closer and closer. I saw a helicopter pass over my house yesterday, but it didn’t stop. No one will save us, all we can do is sit and wait. Wait for bloody, jagged teeth to sink into our flesh. Maybe you’ll get lucky and they won’t leave a scrap of flesh on your bones; or maybe you’ll be doomed to wake up once more and walk these streets, hungry and mindless.

They’re at my door now, I can hear them scratching. They can smell me. It’s too late.

Kyuhyun felt a shiver run up his spine as he clicked off the web-page. He wasn’t scared, never. That guy was full of crap, what was that supposed to be? An extract from a bad horror novel? He scoffed to himself, trying to keep a little of his pride intact.

He switched the monitor off, and his eyes widened. The candle flickered beside him, the light dancing on the walls of the small cubicle he was sat in. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his forehead. There was something behind him, a silhouette on the computer screen. 

Video games had sharpened his reflexes over the years, and his strategic thinking was second to none, but he was scared shitless right then and he couldn’t move a muscle.

A dull groan sounded behind him, closer than he’d expected. He felt goose bumps rise on his arms and neck, the hairs standing on end. His breathing was shaky and stunted and his heart was pumping nine to the dozen in his chest as the creature drew closer, clammy fingers closing around his neck.

But his survival instinct kicked in before it could grasp the flesh of his neck and he stood with a speed he didn’t know he could accomplish, sending his computer chair flying back and causing the ghoul to topple over in an ungainly, undead mess.

He resisted the urge to gag, how had he not smelt this thing coming? With only the candlelight to see by, he was glad it was so dark. Only a day had passed since he’d last set eyes on one of these things, but that didn’t make the sight any less grotesque. This one looked like it had just finished a meal; its stomach was bloated and fresh blood spilled from its mangled mouth as it stood, crudely painting the beige carpet a dark, deep crimson. Its eyes were blank, unfocused and unblinking, scratched and dry.

Kyuhyun scrambled around blindly for any kind of blunt object on the desk behind him, feeling the sweat grow cold against his skin as the creature limped closer, jaw snapping and grinding mechanically as it groaned.

His hand found purchase on something hard and heavy and he quickly gripped it, ready to crack the things head right open, but by the time he'd found the weapon he was already staring straight into its cold, empty eyes, and he gasped soundlessly as every muscle tensed.

Cold hands gripped his trembling neck as it lunged forward, ready to take a chunk clean out of his jaw; but he dodged just in time, its teeth breaking the skin on his forearm instead. He gritted his teeth against the pain and brought his weapon – a pink paperweight with kitten stickers all over it – down on its head before it could find a secure purchase on his flesh, and sighed in relief as he heard a loud ‘crack’ before congealed blood spotted his white shirt. 

He watched in a perverse sense of amusement as the zombie slumped to the floor with a thud, and he fell back against the desk, panting and clutching his arm. It was burning hot where he’d been chomped on, rapidly turning a putrid, deep purple around the shallow wound. He tore a strip of cloth from his shirt and wrapped it around the bite tightly before grabbing the candle and making his way back to where Sungmin lay.

A drop of infected saliva, a bite, a scratch. You’re dead.


	10. Chapter 10

Sungmin stretched under the crispy, silken rouge sheets, wiggling his toes as he yawned widely. He felt much better than he had every other time he’d woken up, though there still lingered the shadow of a headache, and it was light outside for a change, the sun warming his face and making him squint. He sat up, feeling his head spin at the speedy change in position. He propped a few soft pillows up behind his back, sinking into them like he would in a posh hotel. Looking out of the floor length, blue-tinted windows before him he could see a smoky Seoul skyline, grey tendrils winding and twirling into the clouds, the fires of the previous few days having almost burnt themselves out. Cars stood still in the roads between buildings, doors open after the drivers had escaped, or smashed to pieces after a struggle with one of the infected. Papers were strewn all over the streets, blowing with the wind. The sun peeked out between the dirty, grey high-rise offices and other empty buildings, a warm glow falling upon the room in a little square where Sungmin sat and painting the laminate floor a deep amber.

Kyuhyun, for the first time since they’d ran from the college, wasn’t sat beside him. It was odd to wake up and find the skinny teen not there to look back at him. He'd always be bearing that perpetual look of boredom on his face before he’d push a bottle of water in his face and tell him to rest more. Odd, but he took it as a chance to think about everything that was going on, without that blank stare boring a hole into his skull. He kept falling asleep when it got to the important parts, but from what Kyuhyun had said when they’d escaped, and the snippets of conversation he’d remembered from that little meeting before he fell asleep earlier, he could guess at a few things.

For starters, he’d been knocked unconscious by his dorm room ceiling falling on top of him, giving him a concussion and one hell of a headache. He felt like a lead weight, even after three days had passed, but he was tired of sleeping all the time. Secondly, half of the world had been obliterated by the undead while he was sleeping, another reason to stay awake, or he could find himself abandoned here, surrounded by those things outside. It wasn’t like he and Kyuhyun were as close as he wished they were, and he didn’t have any reason to believe he wouldn’t just drop him and run. 

And lastly, and most importantly, everyone he loved was probably dead – or half dead. His parents, his little brother, even his next door neighbour. And even if they had escaped, or been evacuated, what were the hopes they’d be going to a better place? The refugee camps were probably infested, anyway, and the infection was all over the world. There was nowhere to run to anymore.

He reached for the black duffel bag Kyuhyun had brought along that was sitting on the edge of the bed, and rummaged around for Kyuhyun’s cell phone. He never used it, and Sungmin didn’t even know why he had one, the guy never got any calls or texts. Ever. It wasn’t that no one wanted to call him, he just didn’t give his number to anyone, he felt himself to be too important for his fellow students to contact. Only Sungmin had his number, and maybe he should have felt honoured to have that little privilege. Truthfully, Sungmin thought Kyuhyun might be a bit of a megalomaniac; if his psychology classes had taught him anything, that is.

He pulled the tasteless, old brick of a Nokia out, and, upon seeing there was still signal, tapped in a well-remembered number. The dial tone rang once, twice, three times before a breathless, hurried voice answered with a booming ‘hello’ that instantly brought a smile to Sungmin’s face.

‘Shindong?’

‘Sungmin?’ Shindong shouted excitedly down the line with a little too much gusto, making Sungmin’s headache just that tiny bit worse, the phone letting out a sharp static buzz. ‘You’re alive?’

‘Just about. Are you okay? There’s a lot of noise in the background - where are you?’ Sungmin frowned. The line started to go fuzzy, and he didn’t hear Shindong's reply. ‘Hey, hey! You’re breaking up,’ he said, raising his voice. Whatever Shindong tried to say in reply was completely lost underneath the buzzing and fizzing coming out of the cheap cell phone’s speakers. ‘Just text me, it must be the signal.’

He sighed, hanging up and looking at the yellowy-green screen of the phone for a few seconds, watching the little black signal lines disappear every few seconds before appearing again. Now that he thought about it, the noises and the disturbance on the line didn’t sound like a signal cutting out at all. It was as if something loud was happening on the other side, something too noisy for the microphone to transmit properly. And Shindong sounded nervous, worried; as if running from something.

The soft sound of shoeless feet against laminate drew him away from his thoughts, and he looked up as Kyuhyun strode towards him out of nowhere. He offered a smile, but he didn’t get one in return. He never did.

‘Feeling better?’ Kyuhyun asked curtly, dropping down into the seat beside Sungmin’s bed. He looked pale and tired, and a thin sheen of sweat glistened on his brow – had he even slept? Now that Sungmin thought about it, he’d never actually seen Kyuhyun sleep. He’d be on his laptop before Sungmin went to sleep, and when he woke up he’d have gone to classes already. But rather than tired, he looked sickly, as if suffering from a fever. He was fine the last time they’d spoken, though.

He smiled nonetheless, and beamed, replying, ‘Much better, actually-‘ but he paused as his eyes fell upon the arm Kyuhyun was clutching, a rag tied around it reddened with blood and he didn’t miss the pained expression that flickered over his face momentarily, his hand squeezing a little tighter for a second. ‘What happened? You’re bleeding!’ he leaned closer to examine his arm, as a sort of reflex, but Kyuhyun moved out of the way.

‘It’s fine. I got caught on something, It’s nothing important.’ Kyuhyun muttered coldly, looking away and glaring at nothing, but Sungmin persisted, reaching for his arm once again with all the good intentions to help.

‘Just let me have a look at it.’ he said softly. He didn’t want Kyuhyun to get an infection or something, anything could be in the air. There hadn’t been enough time after the outbreak to see whether the virus was airborne or not, if an open cut could turn you into a slobbering, shuffling ghoul.

Kyuhyun swatted Sungmin’s hand away aggressively and gave him a hard look, enough to make Sungmin shrink back. ‘What part of ‘it’s fine’ don’t you understand?’ he hissed, sharply looking off towards the windows moodily, his brows set in a deep frown. Sungmin pouted and pulled his knees up to his chest under the duvet, pushing himself back into the plush pillows.

‘I was just trying to help,’ he mumbled timidly. Kyuhyun ignored him, still looking off into the distance with a glassy gaze, his mouth hanging slightly ajar, and Sungmin risked a small smile. ‘You look like a zombie.’

Kyuhyun seemed to snap out of his daze at Sungmin’s little comment, and turned to look at the fragile boy beside him, a deep frown on his face and a nervous look in his eyes. The older boy shrunk back into his pillows, big, brown eyes wide and scared; and Kyuhyun relaxed his expression, feeling guilty for scaring him when he’d obviously done nothing wrong. He couldn’t explain it, he just felt so angry. He heard Sungmin whisper a ‘sorry’ as he looked away guiltily, and he was torn between telling the older boy what had really happened and just letting things run their course. If he told him, he’d tell the others, and they’d kill him, right? 

Of course they would. It’s what he would do.

Sungmin seemed to cheer up almost instantly, though, the awkward atmosphere between the two dissipating when the smell of food flooded his senses, and with a newfound strength he practically skipped out of bed, bare feet patting against the wooden floor. He made for the restaurant up ahead, already tasting the food in his mouth, but noticing Kyuhyun hadn’t moved an inch he stopped. He raised an eyebrow and asked: ‘You’re not going to eat?’

Kyuhyun shook his head slowly, mechanically, looking through the window off into the distance once again, that same dazed expression on his face. ‘I’m not hungry.’

Sungmin frowned for a second at his roommates lack of appetite, he hadn’t seen the older boy eat in about two days, but he guessed he was just tired, and he’d rather sleep than eat right then. He turned away and carried on walking, not taking another look back.

But as Sungmin shrugged and carried on walking, Kyuhyun unwound the bloodied scrap of material wrapped around his arm. It wasn’t the fact that half of his skin came off with it that disturbed him, it was the fact that he felt absolutely nothing, not even the tiniest bit of nausea as he regarded the mottled flesh hanging limply off the bone, a sickly yellow colour surrounding the wound outlined by a bruised purple.

But there was something else, something that should have disturbed him even more. When he’d told Sungmin he wasn’t hungry, he was lying. Because truthfully, he was starving, and when he’d laid his eyes on Sungmin, the only thought running through his mind was just how delicious he looked. How easy it would be to take a chunk right out of his pale, soft flesh. The sun was blinding to his eyes as they slowly paled in colour, as his pupils blew wide like a dot of ink bleeding into paper, and he stood from his seat clumsily, his feet becoming uncoordinated as he made his way unsteadily to the ground floor.

But all the more disturbing was that he didn’t find any of his thoughts, any of his behaviour disturbing in the slightest. Not even how fast the changes had happened, he’d only been bitten two hours ago. In fact, it seemed perfectly logical. He was sick, that was all, just sick. He wasn’t turning into one of those things, definitely not. People like Kyuhyun never died first, they survived, stood superior over the other survivors. He was far superior to them, he had intelligence, they were all too caught up in their own little drama to make a plan, to get out. 

He’d survive until the end, even if that meant he’d kill the others to do it.

\-------

Shindong threw his large body behind an abandoned car. His chest heaved out deep, strained breaths as he brought his inhaler to his lips, taking deep gulps as it opened his airways. All around him was a picture of a city destroyed, abandoned. Cars stood motionless in the street, alarms screeched in the distance. Some cars still contained their drivers, their passengers, heads lolling back against the headrest, or against the wheel, an endless beeping from the weight as flies swarmed hungrily through the broken windows. Others were smashed and beaten up, either from a hasty escape or an unfortunate scuffle with one of the infected.

He was slumped on the concrete, his back pressed against the rear of an SUV as he rested his sweaty forehead against the cool, black metal. The only sound he could hear was the ringing of alarms and the drone of a car horn being pressed, and, though quieter, the monotonous groan of the approaching undead, the same ones he’d been running away from all morning.

He’d been disturbed that night from his sleep by a sudden crack, a bang from outside the house he was hiding in. When he opened his eyes it was dark, the room almost pitch black save for the dim, blue light coming from the kitchen window. He couldn’t have been asleep for more than four hours. He stood up uneasily on his wobbly, tired feet and groggily made his way to the window, tripping on objects in the dark on his way.

Pulling back the thick curtains and lifting the lacy netting, he realised just how bad of an idea it had been to stop running, to sleep without securing his shelter. At least ten zombies stood outside of the house, steadily drawing nearer on their unsteady feet. One had its mangled face pressed against the glass, its long, gnarled fingernails scratching at the clear panel between it and Shindong, slowly and aggressively steaming up the window with every laboured breath. They must have followed him when he’d ran from them only a few hours ago, and he guessed he should have been thankful they’d taken so long.

He let the material fall from where it was bunched up in his hand and slowly walked backwards to where he’d been sleeping moments before, and he sat, resting his elbows on his knees and his head atop his hands, thinking, formulating a plan. Food. He needed food. He wouldn’t get far on an empty stomach, and all he’d eaten since he’d been abandoned was snacks. Lots of them, but still snacks. He got to his feet and walked into the kitchen, grabbing the ratty backpack he’d dragged along with him since he’d ran from college on the way. 

He scavenged through the cupboards in the dim light, all half-empty after whoever lived here had stocked up and ran. A few cans of beans sat at the back of the cupboard behind all the seasonings and perishables, and he took them along with a few tins of mackerel and a multi-pack of chocolate bars – just in case he needed a quick boost of energy. He opened the fridge and recoiled, scrunching up his nose at the smell of mouldy cheese and out of date milk before grabbing a cool bottle of water and taking a generous swig. He shoved everything deep into his bag, leaning against the marble counter top to take a deep breath.  
To anyone else, maybe he’d have looked calm and collected, but he could feel his hands trembling ever so slightly, and his heart was seconds away from bursting out of his chest. You see, Shindong didn’t really know what to do when it came to working alone, especially in such an alien situation. With Ryeowook and Jongwoon leading the way, he didn’t have to think about what to do next. He didn't have to worry about whether he was seconds away from being zombie meat. He knew someone would be there to back him up. But alas, he wasn’t part of their plans, and they’d left him to rot.  
He didn’t blame them, though, he’d have done the same if he was in their position. He was just holding them back; eating all of their supplies, slowing them down with his asthma – three days to prove he was worth bringing along, and all he'd proved was that they’d have been better off leaving him behind. Maybe if it was just him and Jongwoon, just the two of them alone, he’d be in a much better situation. He knew it was Ryeowook’s idea to leave him behind. 

He should have gone looking for Sungmin the minute he’d heard the gunshots on campus. Sungmin wouldn’t have left him behind. He probably didn’t survive that night, though. He doubted his room mate would’ve saved him, he doubted his room mate even noticed anything was going on outside of that stupid computer screen. He shrugged the feeling of loneliness and dejection from his shoulders, though, and focused on the problem at hand. How long would it take for them to break in? They were pounding on the glass now, pounding on the front door, too. It sounded like more had gathered, the moans had got louder, as if seeing his face had given them a whole new sense of determination. Five minutes? Ten? Probably long enough to jump in the shower, if the water worked, but it wasn’t worth the risk – he’d gone longer without washing, it was no big deal. 

A smash resounded through the house, the curtains in the front room being tugged out through the window as an old lady pulled herself through, her left leg mauled and bloody as she dragged it over the ledge and fell to the floor; and he decided it was probably time to get a move on. He grabbed the rucksack off the counter and went to twist the handle of the back door, but it was stiff and wouldn’t budge. Locked.

‘Shit’ he cursed, and he looked nervously back into the living room, seeing the old woman drag herself slowly and limply towards him, the others following her through the window but getting stuck as they all tried to climb in together, obviously too braindead to understand teamwork. He frantically pushed the handle up and down before giving up and rushing around the kitchen in a panic, pulling open every drawer, checking every ledge. He let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding as his hands found something cold at the back of a drawer, and he pulled out the keys, smiling to himself as he turned and coming face-to-face with the old woman, her prune-like face a sickly yellow as saliva dripped from her puckered lips.

He head butted her. Completely on reflex, and she collapsed to the cold kitchen floor as he clutched at his forehead in mute agony, silently praising himself for surviving. He didn't think about the fact that he'd just head butted an OAP, and seeing the others finally getting through the window, all falling to the floor in a big, tangled zombie mess, he rushed back over to the door, pushing the keys in and twisting them before pulling the handle down and sprinting out of that place.

It was a long way back to the main road, and the only way out of the maze of houses was over the fences. So he jumped them, putting his agility to the test, though a few toppled over at the sudden addition of his weight, and he was momentarily thankful he had no one there to see him make a fool of himself. Thirty fences and a multitude of splinters later, and he was back on the street; long and steep and packed tight with cars and vans and taxis and overturned bikes with the wheels still spinning. Shop windows were cracked or smashed, half of them looked like they’d been hit hard by the disaster shoppers, the ones who stocked up on useless things when the apocalypse came to their doorsteps. One window was cracked and bloody, red handprints smeared across the glass. 

The entire street was silent, not even the sound of moaning could be heard, and he relaxed. Maybe he’d lost them? He took the moment of peace to take a look around. Walking down the sidewalk, he could see just how badly it must have been for people when everything had fallen apart. With so many people trying to evacuate, the traffic must have been immense, and it was so easy for someone to get infected without even expecting it. They could have their sick grandmother wasting away in the back seat, only to have her take a chunk right of their unsuspecting neck, secured in place by a nice, tight seatbelt and no one insane enough to help. A few of the cars looked like the drivers had died from the off, though, their bumpers all crushed up from behind, and a generous amount of blood splashed against the windscreen. The lucky ones.

It was odd, he thought, how no one at college had known what was going on outside. Not even a whisper or rumour had passed around from friend to friend. They knew nothing until they were shot down, not even knowing why it was happening. Sure, they knew about the accidents happening around the world, but they were young, who actually paid any attention to the news? It was treated the same way as UFO sightings, meaning, it was ignored, laughed at. Just a media scare.

Suddenly, Shindong felt his leg shake violently, a buzzing followed by what felt like the loudest noise he’d ever heard as his trouser pocket started singing one of his favourite pop songs. Shit. He didn’t even have to look to know he’d just woken up a whole nation of undead, he could hear them well enough. He didn’t stand around, ducking and diving behind the cars before throwing himself behind a big, black SUV and pulling his flip phone from his pocket, cutting off the song he’d really started to hate.

‘Hello?’ he shouted into the receiver. The zombies were setting off car alarms all over the place, he couldn’t hear a thing.

‘Shindong?’ came a crackly reply, but he recognised the voice, and he would’ve jumped up and cried aloud if he wasn’t about to get ripped apart by bloodthirsty cannibals. Sungmin was alive. He didn’t believe it, he wasn’t completely alone after all. He voiced his incredulity as to whether his best friend was really alive or not, but at that moment another car alarm went off close by, screeching and whirring and making his eardrums thud and throb. He heard Sungmin calling to him down the line, but he needed to move, they were getting closer. ‘Just text me, it must be the signal.’ were the last words he heard before the line cut out, replaced by a rhythmic beep. He cursed under his breath, he really had no luck at all.

He went to run, already mid-sprint when he heard a buzzing, a humming of sorts from above, distinctive over the moaning chorus of undead. He looked up, squinting as the sun burned at his tired eyes, and what he saw made him nearly scream with joy.

Sungmin felt his stomach growl urgently as he padded barefoot into the first floor restaurant. The lights were off, but, like the rest of the floor, lengthy windows filled the room with a deep amber glow. The quiet rumble of conversation could be heard from the far corner of the restaurant where Heechul, Hankyung, Jungsu and Youngwoon were sat on the two adjacent plush, coffee coloured sofas there. Four steaming mugs of coffee and a plate of toast sat between them on the clear glass table. Everyone looked fresher, cleaner, and not just because they'd all found a change of clothes. He wondered if there was a shower here or something.

Youngwoon had his arms folded on the table, his head resting atop them and his tensed shoulders visible through his white t-shirt. He was oblivious to the scathing scowl Heechul was burning into his skull from across the table, legs crossed and arms folded over his chest. Hankyung and Jungsu were deep in conversation, mugs of coffee in hand and serious expressions on their equally handsome faces, and only when Sungmin sat timidly beside Hankyung did they pause in their exchange, focusing their attentions on him.

‘Feeling better?’ Jungsu asked, a polite smile in place, and Sungmin nodded, almost diving for the cold toast Jungsu pushed his way. ‘We didn’t make you any breakfast, I didn’t know if you’d be well enough.’ He said, but Sungmin was too busy cramming the toasted bread down his gullet to reply.

‘Were you bitten at all?’ Hankyung asked Jungsu, apparently continuing their conversation. His tone was conversational and light, but Sungmin didn’t miss the implications of what he was asking, nor how serious a question it was.

Jungsu shook his head, ‘No,’ he said, ‘Thank God. Heechul got it before it could do anything.’

Hankyung nodded in – what Sungmin could only define as – relief, and Heechul sat smiling smugly beside him. Sungmin looked between the three of them with a lost expression, waiting for an explanation which, at length, Jungsu gave him. Apparently he’d been caught off guard during the night, nearly bitten while he was showering, but Heechul heard him scream and got there in time to snap its neck. How he did it, how he knew how, they didn’t ask or explain. Hankyung said he didn’t know how it could have got in – or even worse – how he’d missed it. And if it really was already inside, why had it waited so long to attack? Hankyung had been in the building for over five days, yet he hadn’t so much as heard anything moving around.

Sungmin wasn’t paying attention, though. His eyes fell to his hands, palms down on his knees, trembling slightly. Kyuhyun was on watch after Jungsu and Heechul, wasn’t he? Surely… surely he’d have told them if he’d been bitten. Right? He wouldn’t put Sungmin in danger like that, would he? Maybe he really was just looking out for himself, maybe bringing Sungmin along was just a force of whim, or worse, bait. A decoy. But he’d said that wound on his arm was an accident, that he’d caught himself on something – why would he lie?

‘Sungmin?’

He looked up abruptly, wide eyes staring into those looking back. Heechul and Jungsu wore worried looks – well, Heechul looked more amused than worried – and as always, Hankyung looked at him blankly. It was as if the Chinese man knew exactly what was running through his mind. It scared him.

‘Sungmin, are you sure you’re feeling okay?’ Jungsu asked, leaning closer and gently placing his hand atop his own where it sat on his knee. ‘You’ve gone terribly pale,’ Jungsu continued, and Sungmin shook his head dismissively.

‘I’m fine,’ he lied, ‘I just felt a bit dizzy.’

Jungsu smiled and sat back in his seat, noticing Sungmin’s apparent discomfort with his rather ‘touchy-feely’ approach. Hankyung gave him a slow, pointed look before, at length, he spoke up, asking, ‘Where’s Kyuhyun? He’s been glued to your side since you two arrived.’ he leaned forward slightly, watching Sungmin squirm, ‘It’s odd seeing you two apart. Is he tired?’

Sungmin could only nod, feeling sweat forming at the nape of his neck from the suggestive question. The atmosphere dissipated, however, when a short, sharp beep sounded from his pocket. He hadn’t bothered to change out of his jeans, and he’d forgotten to return Kyuhyun’s cell phone. Fishing it out, he unlocked the screen and selected the flashing envelope icon, opening the message he’d just received.

'Helicopter.'

He read the word aloud, and knit his brows in confusion. He checked the number, and, as he’d assumed, it was Shindong. But what did he mean?

It seemed the others were thinking the same thing, and he held the phone out, all three leaning in to read the screen.

‘What does it mean?’ Heechul asked. His tone of voice made him seem a lot less interested than his expression implied.

‘It’s off my friend, Shindong.’

‘Shin Donghee?’ Jungsu asked, and Sungmin nodded. ‘I thought he went off with Jongwoon and Ryeowook?’

‘I don’t know.’ He shrugged, ‘But I called him this morning. I could hardly hear a thing he was saying, but I think he was alone, and it sounded like he was in trouble.’

At that, Hankyung’s tightly knitted brows shot up, and he smiled. ‘I think I understand,’ he said, and looking at Heechul he signalled him to follow, already up and out of his seat, weaving his way through the many tables and chairs to the exit with a confused – and oddly obedient – Heechul tottering behind.

Hankyung didn’t explain what he understood, only serving to confuse Sungmin further as he read the word over and over.

‘I’m going for a walk.’ He announced after a few minutes of silence, making Jungsu jump slightly before he nodded and smiled, watching him leave.

After Sungmin was gone, an awkward silence grew thick between him and Youngwoon, who still hadn’t moved. He hadn’t even so much as looked at Jungsu since he’d woken up, and he guessed he was still brooding from the events of that night, having had his manly pride severely wounded. After a few moments of quiet sighs and slow sips of coffee, Youngwoon let out a loud huff and stood abruptly, his chair screeching as it pushed back against the laminate. He slammed his large palms down on the table before straightening up.

‘I need a drink.’ He hissed under his breath before he turned and walked out of the restaurant, leaving Jungsu alone, four cups of cold coffee and an empty plate of toast on the glass table before him.

\-------

Shindong’s sore, tired feet landed heavily with every step as he sprinted towards the nearest alleyway, his thick thumbs pushing frantically at the buttons of his cell phone. He’d been running again, ever since his phone had gone off and ruined his moment of peace. He didn’t know where he was going, running anywhere to get away from the mass of undead hot on his tail. 

He’d barely managed to send his message before he heard the all too familiar noise, and he threw himself against the rough brick of the alleyway, shuffling along until he was in the middle, away from the entrance and exit. The echo of the moans reverberated through the narrow space, he couldn’t tell whether they were behind or in front. He held his breath and just hoped they wouldn’t see him in the shadows.

He wondered if they’d hear his heart beating, it was thudding so loud, so fast. He could see from the corner of his eye one of the undead pass by the entrance of the alley, oblivious as it shuffled past. More followed, and soon a whole group was passing by. Maybe he could escape, it didn’t seem as if they could smell him or anything weird he’d expected a zombie to be able to do. He readied himself to run, already turned in the direction of the end of the alleyway, but he should have known it wouldn’t be that easy. Another group of ghouls had gathered, and started to pass by at the other end of the alley, blocking off all means of escape. Maybe if he just stayed still, silent, they’d keep going and wouldn’t notice him. 

But he’d never been the kind to be lucky in desperate situations, and he cringed at the sound of his cell phone, a dull, long sound echoing in the tight, dark space, and his pocket flashed a bright blue. His battery was low, apparently.

It took a split second for them to look for the source of the nose, and unanimously they growled and groaned at the discovery of new, fresh meat. They were faster than before, he thought to himself. As soon as they started coming for him, it was as if he lost all hope. He just gave up on the spot, his mind disconnected from the situation. Was he in pain? He should have been, they’d already ripped his arm to shreds, but he couldn’t feel it. His vision started to blur.

He couldn’t help but wonder if things would have been different if he’d been with Sungmin, if he’d found him. Surely he wouldn’t be in such a dire situation, being mauled by bloodthirsty, mindless cannibals. He should have gone looking for him that night. He wondered how Ryeowook and Jongwoon were doing, if they were in the same boat as him.

He must’ve passed out, blood loss or otherwise. Maybe they’d actually killed him, or maybe he was one of those who turned rapidly. Either way, the last thing he saw were the contents of his stomach spilling out onto the concrete. There was no way he’d survive that.

He’d never know just how close he was to Sungmin, to safety. The Galleria stood but only thirty feet away, and if he’d fought his way through the horde surrounding the building, maybe he’d have got inside. Just maybe.


	11. Chapter 11

Kyuhyun leaned against the cold glass door leading to the entrance lobby, his arms folded loosely over his chest. He looked a mess, blood on his shirt and the makeshift bandage around his arm a vibrant red. His wavy brown hair was a tangled, curly mess atop his head, greasy tendrils clinging to his cheeks and forehead. A thin sheen of sweat clung to his face and neck, and his lips were pale and cracked.

Hankyung had closed the shutters over the glass doors of the entrance earlier that morning, and he stared at the grey metal, listening to the sound of hands pounding against the glass and the endless moans of the undead. 

It had been almost five hours since he’d been bitten – at least 9am – and he knew it wasn’t long before he’d join those things outside, mindless and hungry and so, so angry. If there was one thing he craved, it was control. He didn’t drink alcohol, or take drugs, because they took away that control, loosened that firm grip he had on life. It was why he loved gaming. He was in control of what he did, how he played, and – sometimes – who he killed. But this was different, he couldn’t control this. If he changed, he’d be just like them, no control, nothing.

He barely jumped when he felt Sungmin gently tap his shoulder out of nowhere, standing next to him silently and following his gaze.

‘It won’t be long before they break the glass if they keep pounding on it like that.’ he commented after a while, and Kyuhyun made no sign that he was listening.

‘You got bitten, didn’t you?’

Kyuhyun’s eyes widened considerably, and he looked straight into Sungmin’s chocolate brown ones with a mixture of shock and rage in his own. He already had a lie forming on his tongue, but Sungmin shook his head, a small smile in place.

‘It’s okay,’ he said, ‘I won’t tell. Just let me look at your arm.’ He looked pointedly at his wound before looking up at him pleadingly; and after a few seconds of silence he nodded, albeit reluctantly, and Sungmin beamed up at him, taking his hand and pulling him towards the pharmacy.

\-----

Heechul kicked open the heavy metal fire doors with a grunt, making a loud bang as they hit the wall, and he stepped out onto the roof, dropping the four tins of paint he was carrying onto the concrete. It didn’t matter that he’d taken the elevator, and he’d only had to walk a few steps – he was out of breath anyway. He leaned against the wall beside the doors he’d just came through and let out a huff; sinking to the floor. Hankyung stood far away, in the centre of the wide space of the roof. He was looking up at the sky, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the blindingly low February sun. The wind was strong, his shirt rippling and his short hair waving this way and that.

‘Why did you need all this paint?’ Heechul shouted over to him. He usually said no to any favour asked of him that involved effort of some sort, especially from people he hardly knew. For some reason, he hadn’t even felt the tiniest spark of defiance when Hankyung had asked him to bring the paint.

Hankyung started to pace back and forth, walking the width of the building twice, and Heechul opened his mouth to ask again, thinking he hadn’t heard him, however the Chinese man stopped and faced him before the words left his mouth.

‘What Sungmin’s friend said – Sungmin said it was noisy on the line, and he sounded rushed?’ Heechul nodded, a bored expression on his face. ‘Then he must’ve been outside, in some sort of danger.’

‘Get to the point.’ Heechul moaned, leaning his head back against the wall.

‘If he was outside, he’d be able to see the sky.’ He punctuated his point by motioning to the pale blue sky stretching out above them.

‘So he saw a helicopter?’

‘I think so, yes. He must’ve been in too much of a hurry to explain properly.’

Heechul lifted his head again, cocking it to the side and smiling in a patronising manner. ‘And you think the helicopter will come and save us?’ he laughed without humour, ‘We probably look like ants from up there, they won’t see us.’

Hankyung walked briskly toward him before leaning uncomfortably close. He grinned as Heechul went wide eyed and a pretty shade of red before tapping one of the tins of white paint beside him.

‘That’s what these are for.’

\----------

Sungmin walked over to where Kyuhyun was sat, head drooping, arms limp at his sides on one of the sleek marble benches just outside of the marketplace. He knew it was a bad idea to keep Kyuhyun’s condition a secret, it kept gnawing at him in the back of his mind, but he ignored it. He told himself it was because he owed him something for saving his life that night, but he knew he was lying to himself.

He sat down and swung one leg over the other side of the bench, straddling it as he faced Kyuhyun. He had to repeat his name several times before he registered Sungmin’s presence, and Sungmin took it as a sign things were getting worse. Barely twenty minutes had passed since they’d been stood at the entrance, but his face looked even more drawn and pallid, his skin growing clammier. The sweat was visible as it rolled down his neck. He pulled Kyuhyun’s wounded arm to rest on one of his legs, palm upward. He spared a glance at Kyuhyun’s face before he set about fixing his bandage up, and sighed at his blank, distant expression. He could barely remember ever seeing the boy show anything other than boredom or indifference. The only time he saw him smile was if he was mocking something. They’d been roommates for nearly two years, yet they knew nothing of each other. He was risking his life for this... stranger.

He unwrapped a clean bandage from the small first aid kit he’d found on the desk at the entrance of the pharmacy, the one Hankyung had used only a day before. He began cutting it to size and laying it out over his other knee before picking at the frayed, upturned edge of Kyuhyun’s blood-stiffened rag. As he peeled it away he had to hold his breath, the smell becoming more and more pungent until he finally revealed the gruesome sight of Kyuhyun’s wound. He’d expected it to be bad, but not this bad. He had to clench his teeth the quell the nausea rising in the pit of his stomach as the last of the material came away, pulling with it a great wad of Kyuhyun’s skin. The area around where he’d been bitten was bruised black and yellow, dried blood and puss hard and crisp around the edges of the deep, puce wound. The smell was unbearable, though, so much more than the sight. As if something had died, or had been dead a long, long time.

Rotting away.

He fought the urge to heave, though, schooling his expression and dabbing at the wound with a cotton swab doused with antiseptic. As he pressed the soft cotton to the mess of Kyuhyun’s arm he spared a glance at the teen with every application of pressure, looking for any sign of pain or discomfort, but his face remained the same, almost unblinking.

‘Doesn’t it hurt?’ he asked, pressing a gauze to the now-clean bite wound and slowly wrapping the fresh bandage around it tightly. Kyuhyun shook his head a few seconds later, off beat, and his eyes rose from where he was previously staring at Sungmin’s ministrations, meeting Sungmin’s gaze.

His mouth ran dry as he looked into Kyuhyun’s blank eyes, not a hint of moisture coating what used to be his deep brown pupils. They’d turned pale, tiny specks of blue bleeding into the darkness of his iris. The skin around his eyes was a sore, angry red against his pallid skin, and his pupils were blown wide, getting closer and closer and blurring before his own eyes faltered and fluttered shut at the sensation of cold, cracked lips against his own warm, soft ones, desperate and rough.

How long had he wanted this? He sighed into the kiss, breathless with its suddenness. It was violent and needy.  
It was like saying goodbye.

\------------------

Jungsu shimmied out of the gaudy pink pyjama bottoms he’d been too tired and shook up to object to wearing last night, and pulled on a pair of beige Chino’s he’d grabbed from the male clothing store he was currently in. Though they were much less comfortable than his almost uniform pair of baggy grey sweatpants, he had to admit they looked a lot better, especially after he’d ditched his favourite knitted sweater at the request of Heechul. He combed through his short chestnut hair with his fingers in the dressing room mirror before letting out a sigh and pulling back the curtain.

Youngwoon was still in a mood – which made no sense. If anything, Jungsu should have been the one in a huff, finding out he hadn’t been able to look after his best friend at all over the past few years. Finding out the man he loved really hadn’t changed as much as he’d led himself to believe.

He took the escalator steps two at a time on the way down, the rubber of the hand rail squeaking as he ran his hand along it. Even if the elevator was still working he wouldn’t have used it. He’d always had a certain discomfort about them, wrought iron cages ready to break down and trap you inside at any time. Even worse in this situation, trapped in a tiny space, the undead scratching at the metal as it barely separated you from death. 

His shoes squeaked against the polished laminate as he stepped out onto the ground floor, heading for the market – the liquor aisle, to be precise. Hopefully Youngwoon wouldn’t be drunk yet, though he doubted it. It was surprising how much alcohol that man could ingest in such a short amount of time. He wasn’t a friendly drunk at all, and even thinking about it made him ghost his fingers over the bruises now revealed by his short-sleeved shirt, faded but still there. He’d looked after Youngwoon enough times to know how aggressive he could get from just a sip of beer, he couldn’t handle his liquor at all. He never complained though, because they rarely hung out when he was sober.

He rubbed his hands up and down his arms to warm himself up as he walked down the chilled drinks aisle. He probably should have grabbed a jacket, it being February and all, but it was so warm in the department store that it hadn’t sprung to mind.

Youngwoon was nowhere to be found, but a six-pack of his favourite brand of beer was missing off the shelf, so he deduced he’d at least paid a visit. He sighed and walked back out of the market. Looking around, they could probably stay here for a pretty long time considering the amount of food. Well, as long as the power didn’t cut out completely.

He passed the pharmacy at the far end of the market, en route to Heechul’s attempt at a campsite, but two figures in his peripheral caught his attention, and he grimaced. He’d guessed Sungmin and Kyuhyun had something going on, if the way the younger teen doted on him all of yesterday meant anything, but he’d never so much as seen the two make eye contact back at college, never mind practically maul each others faces off.

He turned on his heel with haste, leaving the two entwined behind him. He lifted a sagging length of material from the entrance of the mess of a camp Heechul had thrown together, manoeuvring his way over duvets and mattresses in the dark in search for the bulky shape of Youngwoon, but the space was empty. He inhaled deeply, bringing his hands to his temples and rubbing gently as he sat down on the expensive, soft sheets. He was tired. He’d barely slept five hours, not enough to relieve his fatigue from the previous four sleepless nights; not to mention a throbbing headache, and he kept hearing a sort of groaning noise in his ears. He shrugged it off as stress, it was pretty plausible. If anything, he wasn’t stressed enough – none of them were. They were trapped in a department store surrounded by mindless zombies,’ yet they were all so calm. Barely a day had passed since he and Youngwoon had arrived and he was already itching to leave.

The groaning noise rumbled in his ears, followed by a rhythmic thud.

Thud.

Thud.

Thud.

It wasn’t in his head, no, it kept getting louder. 

He jumped to his feet, swaying slightly at the dizzying sensation the sudden movement brought on, and staggered out of the make-shift tent. He stepped carefully out into the empty showroom, still lit by the flickering candles. He made his way to where the noise was coming from, an alcove to the far left of the room, and edged his way around the wall, peering into the darkness around the corner.

There was a door, dimly lit by the word ‘Exit’' glowing above in a bright green. The banging was much louder now, a constant thudding from the other side of the metal. He could see the wrought iron door denting ever so slightly, and a cold sweat started to break out at the nape of his neck.

He backed away before spinning on his heel and sprinting for the escalator, putting his fitness to the test as he clambered up the steps with impressive speed. He shouted for Kyuhyun and Sungmin as he went, breathless.

He needed to find Youngwoon.

\-----  
Though it was already past midday, the sun still sat high in the sky, pale and bright against the screen of a cloudless blue. Rain water still coated the handrails lining the perimeter of the roof from the downpour the day before, and the concrete Heechul sat on was still slightly damp. He’d watched as Hankyung had taken bucket after bucket of white paint, pouring the thick fluid all over the grey asphalt, spelling out something Heechul couldn’t decipher from his position, before the Chinese man came to join him on the floor.

He shivered ever so slightly, his back pressed against the cold, hard wall behind him and his arms bare in his short sleeved t-shirt, goose pimples rising along his skin. He’d made the same mistake as Jungsu in not wearing a jacket, but he didn’t regret it in the end. Hankyung wrapped a warm, strong arm around him and pulled him a tiny bit closer, and he felt his temperature rise considerably, for more than one reason.

He didn’t miss the slight smirk pass over the Chinese man’s face.

‘We might be out here all night,’ Hankyung said, ‘You should grab a jacket.’ But Heechul shook his head.

‘I’m fine like this.’ He said. In fact, he was more than fine. He was perfectly content with this.

\----------

Jungsu’s sock-clad feet slipped and slid along the laminate flooring of the first floor, running here and there in frantic search of his alcoholic companion, toppling over a few displays on his way. He wasn’t surprised at all when he found him sprawled face-down on the bed Sungmin had been sleeping in only a few hours previously, five cans of beer lying on their sides on the floor around him. They were all empty. One was still clasped tightly in his hand, dangling precariously over the edge of the bed, droplets rolling out and hitting the wooden floor every few seconds.

Jungsu grumbled to himself, collecting up the empty cans on reflex and setting them neatly on the dresser beside the bed. He pried Youngwoon’s fingers off the half-empty can, and he sat down softly on the bed beside him, letting out a heartfelt sigh. He shook the can, and swigged the remnants in one gulp.

‘If only you liked me as much as you liked your booze.’

He stood again, giving a thoughtful glance at the can in his hand before shaking his head and tossing it on the floor. He’d wake Youngwoon up later, give him time to sleep the alcohol off. He’d still be drunk, but not as much. Surely those things outside – he still felt odd calling them zombies – wouldn’t break the door down too soon.

He headed for the roof, assuming Hankyung had a plan. He always seemed to be thinking about something, watching them all talk and asking them weird questions. He surely had an escape strategy. Surely.

He hadn’t seen how Youngwoon’s limp, sleeping form had stiffened as he’d sat down; or how his shoulders had tensed at his softly spoken words.

Suddenly, Youngwoon felt like being sick, and he was sure it wasn’t because of the alcohol.

\-------

Hankyung jumped slightly as the doors to the roof were flung open, barely missing him as they slammed against the outer wall where he was sat beside Heechul. Apparently, neither Jungsu nor Heechul knew how to open a door.

The skinny man emerged, breathless, and stood before the two sat closely together on the floor. He looked a lot less 80’s than the first time he’d seen him, Hankyung thought. Sweatier, too. In fact, he looked rather distressed.

Heechul scoffed from beside him, ‘What’s wrong with your face?’

Mean as it sounded, Hankyung didn’t think he meant it in a nasty way. A quirky, defensive way of showing concern. Heechul’s eyes raked over Jungsu’s new attire in silent appraisal, and Hankyung could tell he was congratulating himself inside his own head for the transformation.

Jungsu leaned against the now-closed doors, regaining his breath and waiting for the ache in his legs to fade. ‘They’re going to get in,’ he said urgently, ‘there’s a door-‘

Hankyung cursed, cutting Jungsu off. He’d left the staff door open when he’d let Kyuhyun and Sungmin in, only closing the door on the inside of the building. There must’ve been tons of them all packed into the tiny corridor between doors, pushing and pushing.

As he thought, Heechul and Jungsu watched him expectantly. Heechul was in a state of disbelief at just how careless this man was. He’d said he’d secured the building, that it was safe, yet there was no end to how penetrable this supposed fortress was turning out to be.

‘Is anyone still on the ground floor?’ Hankyung asked, getting to his feet, eyebrows furrowed.

‘Kyuhyun and Sungmin.’

‘And Youngwoon?’

‘He’s on the first floor. Asleep. And drunk.’

There was an audible sigh from the ground where Heechul was still sitting. Jungsu was expecting worse.

‘Trust Youngwoon to get pissed when we’re all about to die.’ He grumbled, ‘What are we going to do, then? Lock all the doors and wait until they break through and maul us to death up here?’

Hankyung scratched his nose absent-mindedly, a quiet chuckle sounding from his throat before nodding his head with what Jungsu could only assume was shame.

‘That’s the plan.’

\---

Kyuhyun wasn’t looking good. In fact, he hadn’t been looking good for a while. He looked downright awful, now. His skin was rubbery to the touch and pallid and clammy and his eyes were unfocused and pale. He couldn’t walk without Sungmin’s help, and he was becoming less and less responsive.

Sungmin wasn’t an idiot. He knew this was bad, and that he shouldn’t have kept this from the others, but he was in too deep now. He didn’t want to believe Kyuhyun was going to die.

And it sickened him still how stupid he had been, how he could kiss him. Kyuhyun obviously wasn’t in his right mind, he didn’t know what he was doing. But Sungmin did, he knew exactly what he was doing. He knew exactly what was wrong with Kyuhyun, and he still kissed him. Love is blind, Sungmin was stupid.

Did this mean he’d become like Kyuhyun, too? Like one of those things outside? Kissing an infected, sharing saliva. Just thinking about it made his stomach turn.

He’d managed to get Kyuhyun to the second floor before he asked for a rest. It was less of a question, more of a mumbled plea. He could barely formulate a sentence, his words coming out in murmurs and sharp gasps of air.

Kyuhyun was dying. Fast.

He was lying with his head resting on Sungmin’s lap, two steps from the top of the second floor stairwell. Sungmin combed his fingers through Kyuhyun’s sweaty bangs, brushing them away from his forehead and looking down the steps into the darkness.

He’d heard the banging not long after Jungsu rushed past them to traverse the stationary escalators at an admirable speed, shouting their names with no explanation. The whole door was dented in, several places shaped like fists and broken, angry faces. There must’ve been hundreds of them pushed against it and it wouldn’t be long before it came off its hinges.

So he’d gotten Kyuhyun out of there, slow as he was. It seemed he was losing him second by second. His mouth was slack and a small, cold rivulet of saliva rolled down his chin and onto Sungmin’s jeans.

There was a loud bang, a square of light from the top of the stairwell. Footsteps pounded on the steps, closer and closer toward where Sungmin sat, shoes squeaking around every bend until Hankyung appeared from behind them, Sungmin looking up at him and seeing a huge smile spread across his face.

‘Hurry to the roof,’ he said, ‘Helicopter.’

He left Kyuhyun behind, resting his sleeping head on the cold, concrete step he’d been sat on moments before, and followed Hankyung back up the stairs.

When they opened the doors it was like a punch in the face. It was so windy he almost flew right back down the stairwell, but Hankyung grabbed his arm and pulled him out onto the roof into the sunlight. A large, camouflaged helicopter circled overhead, the kind the military used. Dust rose from the roof in response to the breeze its huge propellers were stirring up.

Jungsu and Heechul were stood beside him and Hankyung, hands shielding their eyes from the sunlight as they looked up at the sky, huge smiles stretched over their faces. He found himself doing the same.

The doors swung open behind the four once again, but none of them noticed over the noise and the sheer joy of rescue. Youngwoon stepped out into the light and grimaced at the unwelcome brightness to his eyes. His head was swimming, but he was sober enough to know what was going on, what Jungsu had said, and what he needed to do.

\---------

From above you’d see the rooftops of Seoul skyscrapers. Some were empty and some, much like the one Heechul, Hankyung, Sungmin, Youngwoon and Jungsu were stood on, were painted. Words like ‘Help’ and ‘Alive’. Unlike the building those five were stood upon, all the others only housed the dead, and the undead.

The helicopter circled the roof, preparing for landing. Five men stood, looking up at it. Four were hopeful, one was furious.

Heechul and Hankyung waved their arms excitedly, hailing it down, shouts getting lost in the loud hum of the helicopter. Sungmin was crying. And as the shadow of the helicopter darkened the ground at his feet, he remembered something. Something important.

Kyuhyun.

He’d left him behind. He was about to turn back for him when he felt a hand on his shoulder, and glancing back he saw a familiar face. Letting out a sigh of relief, he looked back at the sky. It was Kyuhyun.

‘Thank God,’ he smiled, squinting at the sun, ‘I was just about to go back for y-‘

He screamed. The Helicopter rolled onto the roof. Crimson dripped onto the grey asphalt. Sungmin dropped to his knees. Everything was so loud, the world span. The sky turned red and he tasted copper in his mouth as he fell onto his side, grazing his pale, sweat-covered face.

He could see Heechul and Hankyung standing in front of him, and everything seemed to pass by in slow motion. The way Heechul’s joyful face fell and twisted into despair, and how Hankyung’s eyes widened and his arms flew out to shield himself. The way he fell for what seemed like an eternity, a dart-like object protruding from his throat.

Heechul followed not long after, a roaring, muffled scream barely audible over the sound of the helicopter.

He couldn’t see Youngwoon or Jungsu.

Kyuhyun shuffled around in front of him, crouching to pick at the two lying unconscious and limp on the ground, but black figures ran out at him before he could take a bite, grabbing him. They put a gag on his face, a muzzle-like object. They pulled his arms behind his back, and he gnashed and wriggled against them, trying to bite them. They dragged him out of sight.

He felt a sharp sting in his neck, different to the dull throb in his shoulder. He felt fire burst through his veins, his heart squeeze at his ribcage. He saw black.


End file.
